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heartthumpnovel · 1 year

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Heart Thump: Chapter 6

“Seeking Answers”

Word count: 11493

Finally I get to release this chapter! :'D It's a long one but it's literally my favorite so far as we finally get to see and find out what he heck is going on with Jason, or at-least the hook of his issues.

cw: A little bit of cursing

Last chapter: Carrying the World

Next chapter: Growing Pains

---

“Let go of me this very instant- YEUGH!” Jason squealed as his leather loafers had failed to get traction on the smooth concrete floor. He slipped about as he tried to pull away from Motor’s iron grip, trying to get away from his ridiculous rambling. Motor, however, had different ideas. He barely even looked at Ellie, who at this point was begging Motor to stop dragging Jason and was desperately trying to give any sort of explanation as to what happened in the conference room.

Ellie’s tongue tied itself in knots trying to explain Jason’s colossal affliction. It shouldn’t have been possible, but twice now she had seen him grow before her very eyes. And not in any way a human might be able to, like through exercise or aging, but… magically. It was far too surreal for her to put into words.

“It’s- it’s not what you think, it was just… Uh… An allergic reaction? Yeah…” Ellie sputtered out as Motor hustled Jason with a harsh jolt to prevent the squirming weasel from getting away from a confrontation.

"Motor, for Pete's sake, stop that!" She took the next course of action, stepping in front of the angry bull, causing him to halt in his tracks with a fed-up Brit still in his clasp.

Motor stared down at Ellie with a huff and pointed down at Jason, maintaining his furious eye contact with the sweating blonde. "I know what I saw back there," grumbled Motor in an accusatory voice. "I can't believe you two would seriously think I'm that dumb! You just can't leave me out of something cool like this!"

In the middle of the verbal onslaught, Jason was able to speak his mind. "Mate, this isn't some fantastical adventure! It's a disease!"

Motor responded with a dismissive "That's what you think." before sidestepping Ellie and reaching for the janitor's closet. Despite Jason's pleading Motor managed to get the door open with a sharp tug.

They stumbled into the pitch dark room, and Jason had to right himself when he was thrown upon a cold, sleek surface. He fumbled around, trying to get out of the dark void he had been trapped in. He tried to stand back up, however, right as he did, the room flooded with a bright, unnatural light that blinded his eyes.Flinching in pain, he covered his eyes with his hands.

"Really, man?" The sound of Ellie's exasperated sigh convinced him to move his hands, and…

[Image Description: Jason is sitting at a counter within Motor's nerd domain. AKA, the janitor's closet with figurines, unkempt posters and his low-end gaming rig. It's obvious Motor is a fan of giant monster movies.]

A touch disappointed that out of everyone who might have been a kaiju, it was Jason, but excited nonetheless, he stared down at the terrified man. Ellie broke the silence, clapping her hands together while wearing a forced grin. "Soooo," she began, the air thick with tension, "Since we have the privacy and time, let's figure this out!"

Jason's eyes, filled with dread, turned to his best friend as he tried to find a reasonable explanation, but all he could feel was anxiety and panic, unsure what he should say. Before he could speak his mind, Motor slammed his hands on his lap, interjecting. “So are you actually an alien or what?”

Jason’s frown couldn’t have been more sour if he had drunk the world’s most expired milk. “I… excuse me a wha-” Before Jason could even express his shock at Motor’s audacity, Motor interfered with a not-so-polite point to Jason’s chest, leaning over his comparatively small figure. “ARE. YOU. AN. ALIEN?” Motor repeated, more aggressively than the last time.

The completely normal (barring growth spurts) human, who was definitely born on Earth, felt indignation and fear at the same time. He never liked how Motor jumped to nonsensical conclusions like that.

Feeling like a cat reeling from an overly inquisitive dog, Jason leaned back and pushed Motor’s hand away. “NO! Dear lord! Are you actually stoned right now!?” Jason yelled out, now more rustled than scared.

Motor gave a slight smug grin, “Not at work.” He responded before Ellie had the chance to lightly push Motor at least a good few inches away but Motor kept egging on the theories with a grin that was too excited.

"It's painfully obvious, you know!" Motor's words flowed unabated, his momentum building like a runaway train, "You practically radiate anxiety in social situations. I've never once witnessed you attempt to get behind the wheel of a car, and let's not even talk about how you obsessively scrub every inch of your desk, even though you wiped it down just a couple of hours ago on your break- Let me repeat, ON YOUR BREAK.”

Motor was on a roll and nothing was stopping him at this point.

"Or, here's a wild thought," Motor continued, a mischievous glint in his eye, as he playfully scratched the tip of his work-in-progress beard. He pivoted towards one of his cherished movie posters, his finger tracing the outline of a colossal adversary.

"Maybe, just maybe, you're actually a kaiju!" He emphasized the word with dramatic flair. "Picture it: 'Godzilla Vs Office Accountant.' Yeah, real box office gold right there." A wry grin crept across Motor's face, his amusement growing more evident. He turned back to face Jason, who seemed less than amused, but Motor was undeterred, his excitement now matching that of a child who had just discovered their parents' unlocked phone with access to their credit card.

"Oh, hold on a second! What if, bear with me, you're this super crafty alien, all incognito as an ordinary office accountant? But here's the kicker: You've mastered the art of acting so brilliantly that you've actually forgotten you're an alien! And wait for it, your grand mission is to conquer the world and subject humanity to your rule... all while engaging in epic battles against a monkey!"

With a flourish, a finger playfully booped the tip of Jason's nose, the idea seemingly too amusing to ignore. "And who knows, maybe you've got, like, a trio of heads tucked away somewhere secretly—"

"Motor." Jason interrupted the janitor's ramble in the most bitter tone that it had silenced him and the once confident index finger rolled cowardly back into Motor’s palm.

Jason's cheeks were burning red and it wasn't from ‘the love’ either. Feeling absolutely offended- Jason straightened his spine with a demeanor only an angered parent would have painted across his face as his fists were clenched up.

"You've got to be kidding me. While I'm grappling with a crisis, you're off daydreaming about stupid movies?? This is no laughing matter, Motor! It's... it's infuriating!" His words erupted in a loud burst of fury, his hands sliding down his face in exasperation. As he sank back into his chair, Jason's emotional state shifted from rage to a more subdued sadness.

Crumbling into a shivering ball, not being able to comprehend that this was happening to him and more importantly how. He could still feel the walls of that conference room squishing him in a tight hold and feeling like he had no air to breathe. Jason could have possibly suffocated if Ellie didn’t come into work.

He couldn’t hold his tidal wave of feelings any longer and his eyes watered up- he tried to brush the tears away but it only made a couple more tears flow. Ellie noticed a small sniffle and immediately wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. She occasionally ran her hand through the stubble on the back of his neck to comfort him. Jason remained silent, his fingers tightly gripping the fabric of his pants.

Ellie whispered, "Hey, hey..You're in a safe place... it's okay," even though she didn't completely believe it herself. She didn't know what was happening, and it was stressful trying to comprehend the situation. However, she knew that her best friend needed her at that moment.

Motor stood there- frazzled and when he actually stopped to think for five seconds he realized he did a huge woopsy. This particular woopsy just re-hashed an experience a lot of people would call traumatic. The janitor rubbed his forehead while following it with a deep sigh. His shoulders withering away like his excitement, he decided to speak up after several minutes.

"Look, I... I'm really sorry," he stammered, his fingertips guiltily tapping against each other. "I wasn't trying to make light of this. It's just... well, you know how my mouth likes to run without thinking." Ellie, having momentarily disengaged from the hug, cast a quizzical glance back at Motor, her raised eyebrow an unspoken question. Jason wondered if that was the extent of the apology they could expect from him. Motor pressed on, his words more measured this time. "This isn't an everyday thing, you know? It's incredible, and there are people out there who'd give anything to be able to do what you can.” A flicker of his trademark dorky smile emerged, although this time he tried to be sensitive to Jason’s feelings about his gigantism.

Ellie and Jason cautiously pulled away from each other, with Ellie approving of Motor’s rather geeky nature. She knew that Motor tended to speak before reevaluating his thoughts, but it wasn't usually mean-spirited (at least not towards his friends). Motor could recognize when he said something that was screwed up... a minute or two after the fact. It's a work in progress.

Jason used his suit sleeve to wipe his tears off his face and tried his best to speak up again, but the congestion in his throat made it difficult for him to find his voice. Ellie decided to speak for him, and for everyone in the room for that matter, as Motor was still reeling from the awkward tension that had just passed a few seconds ago.

“So… what do we do now?” Ellie spoke up as her hands started to settle onto the chemical shelves with a shaking in her left leg. Jason looked over at her expecting an answer but Ellie was delivering the same gaze at him. Jason let out a sigh and buried his face in his hands as he slumped over in his chair. His mind felt like a high-speed race car hurtling towards a catastrophic crash - the anxiety of his reality being shattered colliding with the realization that his normal life was over.

“Can we pretend this never happened?” Jason suggested as he started to show his face again- only to be stared down at in disbelief by both of his coworkers.

Motor shook his head with a sigh. "Jason, you can't just ignore-"

"I know, I know..." Jason melted back into his chair in defeat as he turned to Ellie. "I honestly don't know how to comprehend what's happening to me, let alone begin thinking about what I should do..."

His hand clasped his chest, which at the moment felt like it wanted to explode from all the stress weighing him down. Something didn't feel right, and it wasn't the normal anxiety he had to deal with for seventy percent of his life. This was some other monster that had shown up on the front porch of his mind, standing eerily still in silence. It was lurking in the grass menacingly, waiting to strike at the perfect signal. What was that signal? Was there a signal at all? With the deadpan look Jason had on his face, Motor cued in that Jason was spacing out. It was time to bring up a daring plan he was constructing while the two were fretting over what to do about the situation. Motor didn't want to impede on Jason again, otherwise they would have more bones to pick. Instead, he waited until the coast was clear to bring up a suggestion that would save a lot of time and worry. “Hey, why don’t we try to trigger the growth spurt intentionally? That’d be a quick way to figure out what the hell is happening.” Motor spoke up.

Ellie was the first to leap as her eyes lit up and a grin finally came back to her face with Jason lagging behind in the enthusiasm department. "That does sound like the next move- if we could figure out the trigger, we could get a bigger understanding of this… thing!" Ellie chirped as she stood back up.

“I don’t know about that..” Jason said, “What if… something terrible happens? We know nothing about this thing.” His best friend just had to interject however by throwing a supportive hand on Jason’s shoulder.

"But we have to identify the root cause of this before we can even attempt to solve it, Jason," Ellie declared heroically, as she rose to her feet with a clenched fist, determined to help her friend.

"Plus, we all finish work at the same time today! AH! We could go to the park and observe with our own eyes!" Motor gave a silent but resolute thumbs up in agreement. However, Jason could only mutter incoherent objections, as he had no other options aside from letting it happen again unintentionally. They couldn't be certain that the next time it happened wouldn't spell the end of Jason's normal life, both metaphorically and literally, as it could potentially be fatal.

“It’s settled I suppose.” ---

Anyone could tell they were in the Pacific Northwest by the stunning, long-standing forests, emanating the earthy scent of life from the towering pine trees and the thriving wildlife, surrounded by a breathtaking environment. The region's misty weather, which is almost like a year-long depression, only adds to the fascination of the area.

Nonetheless, it is undeniably beautiful and definitely worth a road trip, even for those who aren't looking to spend time with their regular ol' nuclear family, visiting tourist traps or finding a place to get weed without being chased down by the authorities.

Sometimes it was just three people in a red worse-for-wear pick up truck that proudly showed off its bumper stickers of a t-Rex eating a stick-man family and proudly displaying a blue-white-pink flag design on the back that was in the shape of a middle finger. The engine had a heart of gold though as it was running like a champion and the speakers on the inside were playing the screams of metal-heads just fine at an ear bursting level.

The driver of the vehicle tried to focus on the road, but he couldn't help stealing glances at his strange coworker in the backseat. The way Jason was zoning out was quite intriguing, and it was difficult to resist the temptation to keep looking at him. Thankfully, his passenger, who was sitting in the front seat, kept reminding him to pay attention to the road and not to be rude by staring at Jason. The driver huffed every time, as he was eagerly anticipating the growth to happen.

Jason’s right hand was fiddling with the edges of his retail brand blazer’s sleeve that was spread upon the rest of the back seat. His eyes were busy drifting off at the pine trees moving quickly past them. He found it kind of hard to properly process his thoughts as they had constantly been canceled by the boiling anxiety in his chest. All he could feel was this light sensation running throughout his skin that had a mild tingling that Jason hadn't noticed before.

He moved his fingers from his jacket to the edge of his left collarbone and placed his fingers around his artery to gauge his heart rate. His heart pumped with stress, and it was so pronounced that he couldn't tell if he needed to make an appointment with his doctor or not. If he did go to the doctor, what was he supposed to tell them? That he had the same syndrome as Goliath? Jason deeply sighed as his fingers trailed down from his throat and landed on his lap. He directed his attention to the trees moving quickly past, and noticed that signs of civilization were long gone. The only thing out there were roads that would lead deeper into the woods.

Jolts to the truck’s wheels shocked Jason out of his dazed state as Motor veered off onto a gravel path that led deeper into the forests of Washington. How far was Motor planning to drive? Ellie grabbed onto the side of her seat as her hair nearly blinded her eyes. It was like they were all being tossed around like quarters in a washing machine. “Do we really have to be out this far Motor, geeze!!” Ellie exclaimed as she tried to look over the nonchalant driver acting as if they were on perfectly smooth concrete. His head slightly tilted up and took a millisecond glance in her direction as paying attention to the road was important after all.

“Trust me Ellie, we are going to need the space. Besides, no one is gonna be out here around this time of year.” Motor responded as his gaze was searching around for a spot to park in the middle of the wilderness. Motor wanted to make sure to not set his precious baby under a bunch of birds that would take any opportunity to defecate on anyone’s prized possessions.

Both of Jason’s hands planted on the window as he took a longer look outside, narrowing his eyes slightly in disbelief.

“I don’t know if I really want to do this anymore.” Jason finally spoke up as the truck’s engine cut off. Ellie looked over from behind the passenger seat while Motor was unbuckling and throwing his seat belt out of the way.

“You’re completely valid in the way you feel, but we did just drive all the way out here already,” Ellie then unbuckled her seat belt and opened the door to follow Motor outside. “Plus, we're here to support you in case anything goes wrong ya know?”

Ellie slammed the door shut before Jason could protest with a “But, Ellie, a lot of things can and will go wrong.” He let out a harsh sigh and rubbed his forehead before eventually unbuckling and getting out of the truck.

Jason trailed behind his friends as they searched for a clearing with enough space to test his newfound curse, which Ellie referred to as his "ability". Motor was still tossing out theories about Kaiju or something related to old gods. Meanwhile, Jason remained silent, dreading that he was in the middle of all these conversations. Was the desire to not be seen a feeling that the kids called "a mood"? Well, Jason thought it should be.

“Yeah but come on wouldn’t it not be cool if Jason was the next in line in the Josta- OH HEY- this place looks perfect!” Motor shouted as they set foot into a sprawling clearing that wasn’t being occupied by too much flora or living animals that weren’t bugs.

The dying grass here sank into the ground, having been trampled time and time again by deer. It looked like the place could hold a small circus if it wasn’t so remote. If it wasn’t obvious enough, this little area was perfect for testing out magical growing powers.

Once Jason was politely persuaded, looking very mopey with his arms folded, to enter the middle of said clearing to start the test. The three of them were curious on how to actually start investigating this strange quirk of his. Jason stood there as his eyes tracked Ellie pacing around with a finger to her chin as she tapped lightly on her lips.

“Let’s see… Do you have any inkling of what triggers it?” Ellie asked as she looked over to Jason as he was scratching behind his head as his eyes stared down at his loafers. Maybe it was a certain phrase that he said, though he was skeptical if he could even remember a lot of the things he said, especially since his perception of time had been skewed from fainting so much.

Now that he thought about it, he really should go see his doctor about that. In the meantime he started to hesitantly speak words that he could remember saying in the last couple of days. Jason shut his eyes and he quickly spat out random words he could recall saying before the initial incident.

“No!” “Smashed!”

“Aaagain??” “Excuse me?”

“Oh dear lord- GIANT POWERS: ACTIVATE!!???”

With that last statement, Jason let out a desperate screech, like a squealing rabbit being pulled from its den. He nearly jumped out of his own skin, unsure if it would be enough to demonstrate his point. He held the flinched pose for a couple of seconds before Motor's dying laughter made him fold his arms in shame. “This is stupid.”

“Ooookkaay- Maybe it’s not that,” Ellie slid in as she knelt down, looking around in the umber pine needles and through the evergreens for inspiration.

She smiled as she looked back at her friends.

“We at least got voice activation off the list! Yay, progress!” She clapped her hands together and stood back up. Motor on the other hand made camp on a nearby rock as Ellie patted the shamed Brit on the shoulder.

“Jason. Think. What exactly were you doing and feeling when the growth occurred?” Ellie did a light finger snap in his direction to motivate him. The flustered man spat out vowels and rubbed the back of his head.

“I-I don’t know?? I mean I guess the first time I was just talking to you while drinking at the water cooler and- uh. When I was just sitting at my desk alone just thinking about stuff!....stuff.” Jason’s tirade ended as he felt like he might have spoken about too much, especially in front of Motor, who at this point was just trying to catch his breath from laughing so hard.

Before Motor made a not PG-13 suggestion, Ellie intervened and suggested conducting a pacer test to see if Jason's heart rate had any correlation to his abilities. Setting up the course was fairly simple, as they used rocks as markers and made sure there were no obstacles for Jason to stumble over.

Thus began the trial of running back and forth for what felt like forever to Jason, who didn’t take exercising that seriously in his early twenties. Watching the poor sight unfold told a story of sitting in a cheap office chair for the majority of his 9-5 work week, and while his natural metabolism kept him skinny- it definitely didn’t do him any favors in the muscle department.

His face quickly reddened as sweat poured from his forehead and soaked through his shirt. He loosened his tie, which was beginning to feel like a noose around his neck. Despite his efforts, he didn't make it to the tenth lap before collapsing, and Ellie had to step in to catch him before he stumbled over his ill-fitting shoes. Gasping for air, Jason instinctively moved his fingers to his neck, trying to steady his racing heart.

"One hundred and fifty…," he managed to sputter out between coughs. "That's as high as... as it's going to get for me..." Ellie gently guided him to the ground and patted his back.

"You okay, dude?" she asked, concern etched in her voice. Jason looked up at her, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.

"Do I look taller?" he asked, his words punctuated by wheezes.

Ellie looked at him incredulously. "No," she replied, kicking herself for not bringing a full water bottle. "Motor, do you have any water in your truck?" she asked, looking up at him. Motor was holding up his phone which was recording the entire scene. From concern to ticked off, Ellie motioned him over and communicated a silent ‘stop recording camera man and help us’. He quickly pocketed his phone and retrieved a can of water from the truck, offering it to Jason.

“Got seltzer water, that works right?”

Jason fell over with a groan.

---

Something wasn't right. Ellie's eyes narrowed as she pondered a potential connection between the events. They weren't getting all the answers here, and Ellie was determined to uncover them, even if it was the last thing she did. She leaned against a trunk, observing Jason as he downed his fourth can of dark cherry seltzer.

"Are you planning on leaving any for the rest of us?" Motor interjected irritably. Holding the box of seltzer in his hands, he loomed over the sweaty and disheveled Jason. After a few gulps, Jason withdrew the can from his lips and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Gasping for breath, he weakly responded.

"Sorry, I feel like death right now." Jason turned the can in front of him, sneering at the ingredients. "I can't believe you drink this stuff. It's sticky and gross." He handed the can over to Motor.

"You're sticky and gross," Motor retorted, crushing the can in his hand and turning it into an aluminum ball. After telling Motor to shove off, Jason rose to his feet and returned to Ellie. Feeling more disgusted than taller at that point, he questioned how much more of this paranoia-inducing gym class he could endure. That’s when an empty seltzer nearly smacked Jason’s shoulder. Thankfully the can didn’t make it’s target as Jason flinched out of the way with a screech. “AHHHHH- !” Jason let out a loud scream and clutched his chest, glaring at Motor with a deep squint. "What was that for?!" he yelled in fury, stomping his feet. Motor, on the other hand, seemed unfazed and simply scratched the stubble of his baby beard.

"Looks like it isn't a defense mechanism," he commented with a sly smirk. Jason rolled his eyes so hard that they might as well have been watching his brain.

Brushing his hair back and promptly fixing it back into its black and sleek professional bangs, Jason grunted in frustration facing away from his friends and into the far reaching woods.

This was starting to feel less scary and anxiety-inducing, but everything was becoming ridiculous, including himself. Jason took a deep breath in frustration, "Look guys, I know you want to help, but I don't think we're going to have any breakthroughs," he spoke, avoiding eye contact with his concerned friends. This was just something he didn't want to deal with anymore. Exhausted, he pressed his palms against his cheeks and closed his eyes, pushing his glasses up from the bridge of his nose to the bristle of his bangs.

"We should just pack up and go home."

“But Jason,” Ellie spoke in a saddening tone that ended her sentence in a cold whimper, “Aren’t you afraid it’s going to happen again?” She approached him as leaves crunched under her shoes. She reached out to him- but, Jason’s eyes darted at her hand and jerked his shoulder away softly, still not willing to look her in the eye.

"I... I don't want to think about it, let alone try to intentionally bring back that god-awful feeling," Jason clenched his face, his voice trailing off as he avoided looking at Ellie. He was certain she was utterly disgusted to discover that Jason was a coward, but he was more than just a timid man.

"You don't understand. That feeling was so terrible, yet... I couldn't help but... enjoy it a little?" Ellie lowered her hand and tilted her head, her dark brown eyes fixed on him in confusion. She could only utter a confused syllable before falling silent. The absence of words intensified Jason's anxiety, and he turned around briefly to face her, his voice cracking.

"Not power hungry or sensual! Honest! Just before all that growth nonsense, I felt... elated and happy, and my heart was racing," his trembling fingers ran through his disheveled hair, tentatively parting the strands. "It felt like, for the first time in my life," Jason took a deep breath, "That’d I wouldn’t have to worry about anything." he concluded with a sigh.

In that moment, he couldn't look any more broken as he witnessed his best friend of fourteen years struggling to understand him.

Jason closed his eyes in bitterness, feeling even more repulsed for admitting that, for a brief moment, he had felt lighter than air despite the potential danger he could have caused.

“I’m- I’m crazy aren’t I-” “No. You’re not.”

Jason's eyes darted back to Ellie, who had a new expression on her face. She looked at him with enthusiasm, her mouth slightly open as her fingers touched the bottom left of her chin. A smile slowly formed on her lips, and life seemed to return to her as she gently grabbed the sides of Jason's shoulders.

“That’s it!” Ellie exclaimed as her eyes had a twinkle of discovery. Jason couldn’t help but be confused about what in the world Ellie discovered. Before he could ask what she mean’t, he suddenly couldn’t see anything at all and felt fingers cover his eyes and a small shove spun him around. There was barely any resistance on Jason’s part- however he was still confused.

“What in the blazes are you doing??” Jason responded as he couldn’t fight away Ellie’s fingers pressing his glasses on his face.

“Trust me on this,” Ellie responded calmly, “Close your eyes, we’re practicing mindfulness”. Doing a double take, Jason stalled for a second before defaulting into what Ellie wanted him to do. ‘Surely she has a plan’ Jason thought to himself as he willingly closed his eyes. ‘Right?...’

Motor on the other hand was watching this all go down with a very skewed frown on his face. He never really was big on this therapy stuff, and he really had no idea where Ellie was going with it.

"Is this really a good time for a therapy session, sis?" Motor quipped, causing Ellie to shoot a quick glance at him and swat her hand in his direction with a scowl. She then turned back to Jason and patted his shoulders, causing them to jolt slightly.

"Alright, buddy, how do you feel about our friend Natasha?" Ellie asked casually, with a smirk on her face. Jason's shoulders immediately tensed up and a shiver ran up his spine, replacing his melancholy with shock and annoyance. He almost turned to look at Ellie, but her firm grip on his shoulders prevented him from doing so. He tried to cover up his shock with a quick lie, as he didn't want to reveal his secret to Motor, who would surely gloat about it. Plus, he couldn't see the relevance of Natasha to the whole giant situation.

“Wh-what are you talking about?! She’s our friend and an upstanding manager, You should know that Ellie,” Jason sputtered out before crossing his arms, “And that- that’s not appropriate to say.”

This was going to be a low blow Ellie was about to commit, but in the end, it was going to be for his own good. She gestured her hands over Jason’s eyes so that they went back to being closed and it was followed with a tsk. “It’s okay to be honest here, Nobody else is around for miles," Ellie reassured him, patting his back gently. She took a step back, her arms wrapping around her own back as she tilted her head. "I know you trust me."

Jason’s head lowered-- he could feel the confused and shocked stare of Motor, who at this point was starting to burn a hard glare at Jason hoping that he wasn’t about to say something that had his best friend involved. Hairs rose on Jason’s neck as he lowered his hand to the ground, keeping his eyes closed in fear that he’d accidentally meet Motor’s seething gaze.

“You’re screwing with me.” Motor spat out, his glare now full-on directed at Jason, who was probably about to say something he didn't want to hear. Jason became a stuttering mess, keeping his eyes glued shut and not daring to look back at the angry bull behind him, who was huffing and puffing and ready to give him a good slap.

“Ok-okay I might have made my statement a little bit- misleading. I uh- I really like her in a different way,” Jason sputtered, finding that closing his eyes made him a lot braver, even brave enough to turn around to face his companions.

However, his nervousness wasn't unfounded, as he could feel his heart pounding rapidly in his chest, and a chilling sensation running through his skin like a bad rash. Well, not really bad. In fact, it felt good having this tingling sensation slowly making its way from his chest to the edges of his fingertips. It only grew stronger the more he talked. “I mean, not just in a friendly way. Granted, she's an amazing friend and I don't want to expect anything in the romantic department, but..."

Warmth radiated from his chest from just thinking about talking about her. The heat from his center suddenly pushed through his limbs and ended at his fingertips. It felt as though pure dopamine was coursing through his veins, and his arms wrapped around himself in a tight hug as his lips curled into an anticipatory smile.

"She's just amazing, you know? It feels like we can be so open with each other, and man alive, I haven't met anyone who can get me to smile during a dreadful shift like she can, She's just hilarious." Jason continued, not waiting for a response as the words spilled out of him.

The more he talked, the easier it became, and confessing his actual thoughts made him feel more alive than he had in a while. His palms grew warm against his cheeks as he pressed his hands onto his face out of slight embarrassment, unable to contain his excitement.

That wasn’t going to stop him droning on, “Not to mention she’s drop dead gorgeous like, I haven’t noticed before but you know how pretty her dim wine eyes are? I didn’t even know that eye color was even possible, right?” His fingers were becoming tangled in his hair with his peepers still glued shut to avoid seeing the expressions his friends were probably making.

His words were met with a staring silence, but right then he could have given a heartfelt speech to a whole stadium of people as the butterflies soaring through his stomach preoccupied his thoughts.

In the moment he didn’t care about shame, and though a light breeze was making goosebumps rise on his skin, the warmth he felt inside was doing him just fine. A light buzzing felt all over his skin made him feel lighter than air. He continued to fill the empty void in conversations with mere rambling, “And her hands are so soft~ Have to wonder what lotion she uses but, I really want to hold them all day no-- all week!”

“Uhm- J-jason??” A small voice peeked from the rambling. “Okay granted- that sounds creepy I'll admit. Though it’s just how I really feel about her. She’s a comforting and deep presence that I can’t ignore anymore and that’s..” Jason attempted to continue the conversation by himself.

“Holy shit…” Another small but disgruntled voice spoke as a shadow started to drape itself across the trees, causing most of the wildlife to screech and run for their lives.

“Well. Yeah a problem. I know. That’s why I haven’t told anyone because if word got out I actually felt it would ruin our..” Before Jason’s tone could fall harder, he was rightly interrupted.

“JASON OPEN YOUR EYES!!” Screamed a voice- not just any voice. Ellie’s voice. She would never raise her voice like that under any circumstances unless…

Jason's eyelids opened in astonishment. The wind tousled his wispy coal hair as he took in the breathtaking scene before him. Above, the sky stretched endlessly, adorned with gray clouds that seemed to go on for miles. They formed a captivating backdrop to the rolling hills of the distant forest, while even the city's man-made structures appeared remarkably close despite their supposed distance. It felt as though a brisk ten-minute jog would be enough to reach them, defying the time it took to get here.

In fact, he could even make out the faint outline of the Space Needle's peak from his current vantage point. However, this momentary awe was quickly overshadowed by the realization that he wasn't standing on a tourist platform but rather in the midst of nature just moments ago.

A sinking feeling settled in his stomach as he observed the peculiar chest-high pointed shrubs surrounding him. Initially appearing alien, they gradually became familiar. The distinct scent of pine gave them away as the same trees that had towered over them before he closed his eyes. What made it even stranger was the inability to distinguish individual pine needles anymore, as they seemed to merge into one prickly yet pleasantly fragrant blob.

If Jason didn't know any better, he would have thought he had been taken to an uncanny, miniature version of a golf course as a cruel and extravagant prank. The trees appeared tightly packed and diminutive compared to their previous grandeur, but they swayed in the breeze just as they always had. There was no denying that everything around him had shrunk.

Either that, or he’s gotten bigger.

His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, keeping his gaze level with the shrunken plant life. He was reluctant to look down, fearing the unsettling sight that awaited him. Each breath felt labored and heavy as he found himself inhaling rapidly. The once exhilarating rush of romantic feelings had now been replaced by sheer terror.

“Jason..?” A very hesitant Ellie spoke as she backed up from the gigantic leather loafers and ankles. Ellie wasn’t sure if she could reach out to him. He was so far away yet- an overwhelming presence that even made her stomach flip. She didn’t want to be afraid of Jason especially since he looked like he was scared out of his mind himself but she couldn’t help the feeling of being around a body that was so big and more importantly, unstable.

Ellie’s traitorous brain decided this would be a great time to visualize the times when Jason had a fifty percent chance of knocking his head against a bus station pole or clumsily tripping over literally nothing, resulting in nothing more than minor embarrassment. Those incidents would pale in comparison to what blunders Jason could cause being as tall as he is now. As her feet instinctively moved, quietly retreating, Ellie couldn't help but question whether she wanted him to hear her.

Shortly after, Ellie realized that he had indeed heard her, Jason’s head darted downwards after what felt like a lifetime of not looking down. His gentle hazel eyes, filled with tears, locked onto the two of them with a mix of emotions, his face contorted in an expression of awkward despair. His eyebrows shot up, and his jaw slackened in shock. Jason couldn’t believe what he was seeing but, there it was- the proof was right in front of him.

Both frozen in fear, neither of them dared to make a sudden move, terrified of the potential consequences that could arise from even the slightest misstep. However, their hesitations didn’t matter as Jason's legs began to tingle, the blood rushing to his head causing a loss of sensation, and his weakened heart unable to withstand the pressure.

Slowly, his colossal form buckled under its own weight, a wave of panic coursing through his mind. Feebly, he managed to utter a series of pleading "nos," accompanied by a desperate shake of his head. With a sinking realization, Jason's heightened senses anticipated what was about to happen, understanding his lack of control in the face of it. What he could do however- was to make sure he wasn’t falling on top of his friends.

Jason had leaned back, twisted his feet to the side and let gravity do the work.

"WOAH- Wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?" Motor's voice pierced through the air, a mix of shock and alarm. However, his protest was abruptly cut short by a violent upheaval that sent him sprawling onto the forest floor, his unruly curls mingling with the nearby vegetation. Annoyance etched across his face as he realized his beloved hoodie had become a canvas for dirt, courtesy of his impromptu encounter with the forest floor and an unfortunate stump.

The beanstalk had fallen.

Meanwhile, Ellie's luck prevailed as she found herself caught in the embrace of a sturdy tree, her arms wrapped tightly around a lower branch. Momentary whiplash left her disoriented, temporarily obscuring Motor's colorful stream of expletives. Tentatively, she turned her gaze back toward the spot where Jason's imposing legs had once stood, only to be met with the sight of him partially kneeling on the ground, his trembling arm straining to support his immense weight.

Jason traced a finger on his own face before he pulled it forwards to look at his twitching hands as he retracted them. Still buzzing from the blood rushing to his head he had his last thought of wondering if he was still dreaming this entire week; however, by now it would be less believable to think that his imagination was making this all up than him blowing up into a giant.

He lost focus on his hand as he heard loud and clear swearing from the bushes. Darting his glaze over to his now miniature coworkers, he couldn’t believe how different the pair looked. Even big ol’ Motor, who normally stood a good few feet over him, and was definitely eating his wheaties as that man could probably take on a horse despite his loafing habits at work, was as big as an incredibly accurate figurine. Their features blended in and Jason could only tell it was them by the fact that they’re the only people there, and by the color of their clothing and hair. He saw Ellie start helping Motor up and pulling him to his feet with a good tug that just seemed so full of effort for such a small being. Their eyes meet once again with a small startle coming from Ellie seeing the monolith iris start tracking her again.

Jason grimaced pitifully and spoke out without thinking about it. Now his talking wouldn’t bother anyone unless they had something against the British but this time his voice boomed, “Ellie, I’m not gonna hurt you!” Both Motor and Ellie covered their ears with Motor being really angry or really excited- he couldn’t decide either way.

“Try lowering your voice a tad won’t ya?!” Motor retorted, “It’s going to wake up a whole ass city! That’s...kinda sick, though.” Jason immediately covered his mouth with his free hand, a pained expression on his face, hating that he had to go ahead and make things worse by talking. Ellie hesitantly drew closer. She slowly pulled her hands away from her ears to hold them together in an uncomfortable embrace; as if she was demonstrating reluctance to confirm something.

Motor on the other hand was in awe- Never in a lifetime he’d thought he’d get to see a real life giant,let alone knowing the guy himself. Before Motor could go up and start doing a frantic inspection Jason removed his hand from his mouth and raised it in front of the two as he shook his head adamantly, and started talking at his usual volume, but his tongue caught him and continued speaking in urgent whispers.

“NO- oh no- sorry! No no no no, That’s close enough you two,” He spoke in the lowest voice he could just so he didn’t further destroy their ear drums. “I… I don’t want to hurt you both… again.” His arm got tired so he lowered himself down on his forearm and leaned back. This was all around pretty terrible, Jason would admit to himself, he wondered how he was even capable of doing this, and what event caused this transformation in the first place. “Jason,” Ellie finally spoke up softly, staring downwards at the ground as she fiddled with her rings on her pointer finger. Rummaging through her head on what would be the best way to say what she needed to say but, it only looked like being straight forward was the only way to go.

“This is going to sound so weird but,... I think.. I think it’s your crush on Nat that’s causing this.” She looked up sympathetically at the giant who had a vacant look in his eyes as if her words were bouncing off of his ears, yet it all sank in as his blank face sagged into a frown, with eyes becoming more watery as the idea repeated in his mind. He shook his head, but this time it was languid.

“That.. that can’t be,” He whimpered, for a moment his voice rose an octave “That’s ridiculous!... That’s ridiculous…” He wanted to unhear that sentence, but deep down he knew that Ellie was right.

She usually was.

[Image Description: Jason, putting his hand over his mouth, is in complete disbelief while Ellie looks at him with concern.]

“Oh. Oh, no.”

Out of all the ailments in the world it just had to be specifically that one didn’t it? He would have taken yelling silly catch phrases or being physically injured over the truth. His jaw dropped and he grew distant from Ellie’s counseling. She tried her hardest to give her best friend reasons to not panic; it didn’t help much.

Motor wasn’t much help as he folded his arms with a gruff, “Man that’s lame.” He spoke without thinking but caught his tongue when Ellie darted back a glare he only wished he could unsee. “But uh- uhh… Being a kaiju is cool I guess.” No amount of backtracking was going to matter to Jason- he was just enveloped in his thoughts.

Thoughts of wondering what he did to deserve this curse; he wasn’t a bad person, was he? He never intended to hurt people, he was polite to all he’s met, paid his taxes and even donated to every charity post he saw on social media even if that meant he’d have toast for dinner. The only sin he remembered committing was falling head-over-heels in love with someone who could lose their whole career if they reciprocated, and who he wouldn't be able to make happy in the long run.

Oh.

Jason laid himself on the ground with only his arm to support his head. He groaned before making a small glance at his friends who went silent at the sudden movement, he buried his giant face into his free arm and curled up. Murmuring a request that was promptly followed by a deep sigh; “Can I have a minute, Please?”

Ellie and Motor gave each other knowing looks before Motor started to gently pull Ellie away as she didn’t take any action to walk away from her grieving friend.

“Alright, see ya in a few,” Motor said as he glanced back to see Jason laying there, who was using his legs to cover his face. The last thing Ellie saw when she turned away was a glimpse of a very sad pile of giant limbs pulling together that had grown silent.

Several meters away from the clearing, they both kept walking until they were out of sight and made sure that Jason couldn’t hear them if they kept a low conversation- knowing that man’s eardrums had to have been blessed enough to be able to hear a needle drop in the middle of highway traffic. Ellie finally released a tense sigh and started to rub her arms vigorously as she tried to relieve all that pent up stress.

“Man… Maybe I shouldn’t have said that,” Ellie confessed as she looked up to Motor with sad eyes that peaked through her blonde hair. “I just really, reaaally wanted to help but…” Motor shrugged his shoulders as he decided that one tree he was conveniently next to was a great place to lean on.

Giving her a quizzical look, Motor asked, “Wasn’t that your plan? Like, that was the entire point of this experiment, L.” Ellie paused her hair ruffling to dart her eyes right back at Motor.

“Yeah but- Oh my gods he’s HUGE,” she raised her hands upwards in a grand gesture, “I thought he’d be a few inches taller, Not a few meters taller!” Ellie yelped out as her shoulders crept back into herself in shame.

“That was more than a few meters Ellie-” he commented. “SHUT. You know what I mean…” she replied.

Whimpering under her breath trying to mask her words unsuccessfully, “This is my fault - I Completely messed everything up... I’m so stupid.”

Motor wasn’t going to let her get away with that one. “Come on, don’t put yourself down like that- aren’t you supposed to be a counselor after finals or something?” he interjected. “A psychiatrist,” Ellie gave a quick correction, “Though I guess you have a point there.” She rubbed her eyes, trying to not engage too much with the thoughts she was having, letting the guilt sink in but instead of covering herself with it like a wet blanket she tried to understand ‘why’ she was feeling that way.

“Just… none of this makes any sense, I don’t know about you but we don’t live in a fairy tale Motor, this isn’t normal.” Her shoulders dropped with the weight of the situation weighing her down from standing up to a nearby moss-covered boulder.

“Back at the office, seeing that giant eyeball staring back at me was horrifying enough, but now that we were literally a foot stomp away from being made into pancakes…” Ellie started to babble as she sunk further into those baseline human feelings that first show up when their whole understanding of existence has been challenged.

“Not going to lie, I felt like running.” Admitting that out loud made her feel like actual scum of the earth. Her hands clapped together and brought them to her crown with a desperate inhale. Was Motor’s awkward stare down and dirt-kicking coming off as judgemental? It was. According to Ellie it was.

“So uh… Jason actually likes her back huh?” Motor asked, his stomach sinking from his doubt being proven wrong after all this time. He cringed as he frustratedly brushed his curly mess of hair in a declaration of being agitated. “Kinda messed up, he hasn't noticed by now she’s basically throwing herself at him this whole time. Seriously I haven’t seen her this down bad in years… The giant idiot has been leading her on?!”

Those words weren’t going to fly, not on Ellie’s watch. She straightened her posture to glare at Motor and pointed aggressively at him.

“He isn’t leading her on!” she scolded back as she folded her arms, “It’s complicated, he doesn’t have a single idea that she likes him back.”

“Then why don’t he, oh, I don’t know, JUST FUCKING TELL HER?” His patience dwindled as he paced around trying to not focus his anger on a person but the ground below him. “This whole star-crossed lover shtick got old the minute Natasha told me she liked him,” Motor spouted as he paced back and forth angrily, “I straight up told her that ain’t going to turn out because he’s a self-absorbed, spineless chicken!”

The silence from Ellie pulled him away from his anger when he noticed she didn’t retaliate with his argument. She was sadly staring down at her battling thumbs, not sure what to say to that. “I know it looks bad,” she finally opened up to answer, “But they would definitely get terminated by Atlas if their feelings were known, and you know both of them have so much to lose.”

Motor opened his mouth but it seemed he ran out of arguments. While he didn’t give a single shit about Atlas in the slightest, he knew that Natasha really cared about her career.

Instead of continuing to bicker, he just took a seat on the boulder of shame next to Ellie and clumsily patted her back as they just let the silence of the forest do all the talking for the both of them. After a good minute Motor broke the silence first. “Capitalism can suck it.” Ellie sighed. “This is completely out of my league, Like, what do we do now?” She questioned not only herself but opened the suggestion to Motor.

“We turn him into a superhero,” Motor delivered to her, which he continued before she could object. “Wait- let me finish, this is going to be helpful I swear.” He was granted permission by Ellie to go further into his wildly off-course suggestion just to see where he could have been going with it.

Motor stepped back from the boulder with his hands gesturing to the area where a giant had been having a self pity moment.

“If I learned anything from superhero movies, I know for sure that weird junk like this doesn’t happen for no reason,” he continued, as he closed his eyes to envision the classic hero origin story from the perspective of a common movie fanatic thinking of theories that could possibly happen in the next few chapters of Jason’s life.

“You see, I think we’re at that part of the movie we figured out what makes him tick, it can’t be an unimportant plot point because that’d be dumb.” Motor spoke as his hands landed on his hips while his huff blew the tufts of his mess of curly bangs as he kept tacking on information,

“There’s gotta be a reason for him to have super powers,” The obviously confused Ellie sat there on the rock trying to find what connections Motor could be talking about and why in the world he’s bringing up fictional terms into this real life situation.

As if Motor could read her thoughts, he continued his spiel while scratching his baby beard, “Could be connected to Natasha, whatever Jason’s past is or something completely unrelated. Who knows?, The thing we need to worry about is,” Motor then talked grimly as he bent down to be eye level with the clearly nervous college student,

“Whatever it is- Jason needs to be big to stand a chance.”

It was completely unheard of to Ellie to take whatever comes out of Motor’s mouth with a grain of seriousness. In that bleak moment, the realization of impending doom crawled into her head. Being exposed to a phenomenon that broke her view of real world physics and scale had made her become more receptive to the idea. While Motor’s superhero rant is silly, she had to be there for her friends. Even if she was far from equipped to deal with it.

No matter if it was just conjecture- it was all they had left. The big nerd has a point for once.

“Well uhm… I guess we could help him adjust to this… thing.” Ellie asked as her eyes slowly met Motor’s with color fading from her face.

“Bingo,” Motor responded.

Thunk

CRASH

---

Jason couldn’t tell how long he’d been lonesome. Despite having a small fling in secondary school with a girl, well, it wasn’t a legitimate fling so much as it was the ending punchline to that girl’s sick joke to her friend group that lasted about 12 hours.

Never forgive or forget Tracey.

Lucky his teenage heart was broken not out of legitimate love for the girl but the pride of being in a relationship. He learned that he never cared for the race to be someone’s boyfriend or that ladies man nonsense. For years he concluded he just simply wasn’t meant to be attracted to anyone and let that matter rest, because he’d rather not place the burden of love on somebody. He’d always figured he’d be a terrible romantic partner.

Sure, he idealized romance in his favorite rom-coms and paperback novels which didn’t hurt anyone, though one could say his tastes in quality media suffered. It was for the best he’d keep to himself and do the simple task of just having good friends in his life because that’s all he needed. He absolutely botched the plan when he realized he’d fallen head over heels for Natasha. It happened so abruptly that he could pinpoint the moment his heart decided that she was the one. It was a Saturday night after work when the gang decided to get drinks at this local indie band bar that Ellie suggested. It was just a few pints and music for crying out loud. Cupid must have had it out for him, because in a moment his friend of three years suddenly became the most attractive woman on Earth.

Strange part was that nothing changed about her, she looked the same, acted the same and seemed to brighten the room the same. Nothing about it was her fault- just his dumb mediocre man feelings.

She doesn’t deserve him. The bloody monster. Reflection time was abruptly shattered when Jason's body collided with the wooden pikes surrounding him. The tree pressing against his glasses and threatening to poke his eye served as a painful wake-up call, bringing him back to reality. With a sharp yelp, Jason jolted and surveyed his transformed surroundings. The boulders had morphed into skipping stones, and the trees appeared more fragile than before.

As the pieces fell into place in his mind, Jason let out a pitiful grumble. "Now I can't even wallow about my love life without everything shrinking around me? Unbelievable!" he exclaimed in a mixture of annoyance and desperation.

Attempting to gauge his own size, Jason estimated that the towering Douglas firs must have been at their maximum height, around 30 meters. That meant he had to be over 40 meters tall himself, considering the sticks around him only reached his lower chest. The thought induced a cringe that resonated throughout his entire being.

Why did he have to be good at math?

This made Jason feel like throwing up, though he held back on following through because of the consequences of getting sick everywhere.

Frustrated and questioning the purpose of his brain, Jason pushed himself up to gaze at the dark gray clouds gathering over Seattle, seemingly poised for an extended stay.

At least there was something looming above him, for the time being. Jason's mind began to wander, contemplating whether he could reach such heights to devour cumulonimbus clouds as if they were fluffy cotton candy. The thought sent a shiver down his spine, but he quickly pulled himself together, realizing that would be just absurd.

This was too weird for him.

“Out of all the curses in the world, I had to get gigantic, didn’t I?” Jason asked the nonexistent crowd with a strong distaste, “For Pete's sake, I would have taken being turned into stone or a vampire even! At least then I’d be able to fit in a house..”

He clenched his fists with a large inhale, tensing himself up before exhaling a wind that blew through the quiet woods like a sudden, harsh spring gust. Covering his mouth once again with a startle, Jason took a second before huffing out a smaller, less affecting sigh.

“How am I supposed to live like this?” He asked no one. No one responded with silence and small trembles of animals escaping the scene.

Jason could already sense his mind trying to fill the void with the usual daydreaming which unfortunately, had romance most of the time. In defeat of calming himself down, His eyes searched the land for something to distract himself with- what he had at his disposal was trees. Fantastic.

Jason reached his hand to touch one fateful douglas fir trunk as his whole body laid on the ground. In an attempt to distract himself from the panic swirling inside him, he sought solace in fiddling with something to turn off his overactive imagination. His enormous fingers gently cradled the trunk of the tree and slowly moved the tip of his fingers against the aging bark. His colossal fingers flinched away from surprise in a brief moment, he had expected the bark to feel completely smooth as his eyes told him, but it felt rough.

“Woah, isn’t this bizarre?, “ Jason remarked, his voice filled with astonishment. His fingers continued to explore the tree trunk, brushing against the curves of the bark that his eyes alone could not detect, “Like- I can still feel all of your crevices and all that… How?”

Driven by his curiosity, Jason leaned in closer to the trunk, his eyes widening with excitement. He realized that by focusing his attention, he could perceive even more intricate details of the trunk's curves and weathered wrinkles, each marking a chapter in the tree's long history. The bumps scattered across the surface became distinct under his scrutiny, and he could now discern the individual pine needles with remarkable clarity. It was a newfound perspective, one that revealed the tree's hidden beauty in ways he had never imagined before.

Incredible, he had thought.

Eyesight was one of those things he’d struggle with needing his glasses to be able to see far-sighted. His ability to see objects up close was serviceable but he'd never been able to pick out details to this extent.

The excitement surged through his veins, causing his hand to tightly grip the tree trunk as a radiant smile spread across his face. "This is incredible... Could I have done this before?"

However, his blissful moment was abruptly shattered by a sharp snap that echoed in his ears. In an instant, the tree returned to its smooth appearance, devoid of any discernible details. Jason's elation turned to dismay as he realized the consequences of his newly acquired strength. His hand recoiled from the trunk, revealing the broken remnants where his fingers had once tightly clenched. The once-mighty tree, which had weathered countless storms and endured the tests of time, now stood fractured and vulnerable, like a worn-down pencil shattered by an overwhelming force.

Jason lowered down so that his face was a few mere meters away from the afflicted tree with a guilt ridden gaze. “I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to-! …God,” Jason’s panicked guilt turned into unfolding shame. He huffed before brushing his bangs away from his face. “Jason, you're apologizing to a tree for pete's sake.”

Then why did he feel so bad about it? It’s not like the tree has the capability to forgive him right? He couldn’t even forgive himself.

Jason also heard another thing with his excellent ears, the sound of crackling and birds screaming as they evacuated their homes. Before he could react, the towering timber leaned precariously, its weight shifting, until it finally crashed onto Jason's head with a resounding thud. A pained yelp escaped his lips, causing an eerie silence to descend upon the once lively surroundings.

With trembling fingers, Jason attempted to push the fallen tree back into its original position, his voice filled with desperation as he whimpered, "No, no! It's alright! Everything is fine!" For a fleeting moment, his efforts seemed to have some effect.

“See? Good as new!” The creaking sound disagreed however and the tree made its second fall onto Jason’s face. Again.

He dug his fingers into his knees as he stewed there with a tree adorning his forehead. Against his better judgment he made another large tidal wave of air flow through the forest aggressively.

“What the hell are you doing!?” Motor yelled out as Ellie and him scrambled into the clearing.

“Destroying the environment, that's about it.” Jason responded solemnly, still with the tree resting on his forehead.

He didn’t bother looking behind him because he could hear someone making an impressive low whistle. Ellie raced past Motor in a fit, "Are you okay?!" She yelled, pushing through the knee-high grasses and bushes as he bolted towards Jason. The giant hardly had any time to react and had only managed to raise his head off of the ground, letting the dead tree slide off of his nose.

"Woah hold on a minute don’t get close to-" Jason's warning was cut short by a gentle force pressing against his lower leg. Swinging his head downward, he discovered a tiny figure attempting to grasp his ankle in a panicked embrace. It felt more like a light pinch than a warm hug, but the gesture was appreciated.

Figuring he already knew who was coddling him, the idea of using his newfound ability to focus on her came to mind, and he saw no harm in giving it a shot. Squinting his eyes and concentrating, Jason directed his attention towards Ellie. His head bent downward, his eyes squinting intensely.

In a sudden moment of clarity, the details came into view. He noticed Ellie's blonde, soft bangs brushing against his diamond patterned wool socks, and the elegant tattoos adorning her arms. Underneath her pushed-up sleeve, he caught a glimpse of a wrapped-up bandage on her upper arm. Her grimace was hidden as she buried her face into his sock, holding on tightly for a few more seconds.

“Come on, let him go.” Motor spoke up, “Gulliver said he didn’t want to be touched.” Ellie jolted off of him while patting herself down with shaky hands. “Oh geez- s-sorry dude, I… I just...” Ellie sputtered out embarrassingly as Jason pulled his head back to not scare her further.

“It’s quite alright Ellie, the hug was nice.” Jason commented as he pulled himself slowly around so he was facing his mini coworkers. He traced his finger in the ground to lightly pet the grass with his finger tips. “This whole ‘giant’ thing has gotten me out of sorts,” Jason began to explain to his audience of two people, reaching his hands up to his face to flex them.

“It’s not just that everything is small… Compared to me I mean, but I can- well. I don’t know how to explain this without sounding like I’m on some heavy drugs,”

“Too late for that!” Motor interrupted proudly.

Jason tried to sputter his words out to scold the little trouble maker without busting anyone’s ear drums. “No-NO! Oh my go- Motor please let me explain! I think I have, oh I don’t know, super focus or something!”

Jason Leaned a bit forward to look down upon his friends, nervously smiling and trying his best to seem non-threatening as if trying to persuade a feral cat to become best friends. Ellie and Motor looked at each other in confusion.

“Like- If I have my attention on something for long enough I can actually see and hear it just as if I was normal.” Jason continued to explain, bringing his eyes to track Motor this time and tried to dart his gaze on his clothing. Motor tried to speak up to ask what the heck Jason was even going on about, but he caught his tongue when he noticed Jason’s expression turned from a friendly inspection to a mischievous smirk. Motor hated that look, he could smell the superiority from all the way down there.

Didn’t help Jason’s hulking form started to lean down towards him menacingly with that disgusting smugness filling his vision. Motor tried to step back a little bit when he saw that Jason’s hand was heading towards him. The audacity of this giant jerk. Motor gawked and yelled out:

“Hey, HEY! HEY! I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T WANT TO BE TOUCHED.”

The hand turned into a fist as it was a few meters away and Jason’s earl gray scented breath sent shivers down Motor’s spine. Was this a sick joke? Is Jason about to take his revenge on all those head rubs Motor has tormented him with? He braced himself and waited for… whatever the heck Jason was thinking of doing to him. When nothing happened, Motor peaked his eyes open and realized that Jason’s index finger was pointing down at him just a car lengths away from his chest. “You have a barbecue stain on your jacket.” … “I actually hate you.”

#g/t #giant tiny #heart thump #gt community #gt writing #writing #giant #gt #giant/tiny #size difference

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miraculouscontent · 3 years

Photo

Who wants more sad statistics~?

Because say hello to the color-coded guide to Marinette blame/mistakes! Obviously there’s some room for debate (even I struggled with how to color an episode from time to time), but it should be mostly accurate.

Blue = "Marinette wasn't really blamed for anything notable and didn't really suffer from Adrien" Cyan = "Marinette was blamed for something unrelated to Adrien that she didn't do/she shouldn't be made to feel bad for" (this one is probably the most subjective) Green = "Marinette was blamed/made a mistake but it had nothing to do with Adrien" Yellow = "Marinette doesn't technically make a mistake or get blamed, but is negatively impacted by her crush on/relationship to Adrien" Red = "Marinette either was blamed for/made a mistake that related to Adrien."

"Negatively impacted by her crush on Adrien" could mean generally anything, but it leans towards Marinette embarrassing herself in front of Adrien, characters making snippy/unnecessary comments about her crush, and things that wouldn't have happened if her Adrien crush didn't exist. In the case that Marinette makes a mistake/is improperly blamed for something not about Adrien (cyan/green) but also is negatively impacted by her relationship to him (yellow), whatever is given more attention will take priority. There could've easily been a lot of cyan+red episodes had I allowed myself to use two colors.

Now look at all that red, which is easily the most frequent color, and then try and tell me that Marinette's crush isn't just a tool to humiliate her and force her to make mistakes in order to fit the "Marinette makes a mistake" quota.

I've put the explanations below on my decisions for each episode, as well as the tally for everything together:

Season 1

"Stormy Weather" (red) - Marinette blames herself for leaving Manon, and they're only at the park in the first place because of her Adrien crush.

"The Bubbler" (red) - Marinette uses Lucky Charm explicitly to stop Chloe and Adrien from dancing together.

"The Pharoah" (green) - Ladybug drops her schoolbook; relatively minor in the grand scheme of things, but seems to be why the show forces Marinette to awkwardly try to keep Alya in the museum instead of just having Tikki directly point out where to go.

"Lady Wifi" (green) - Marinette overslept while doing homework and was late for class

"Timebreaker" (cyan) - Marinette is blamed for not being home to give the cake to Nadja... who came early and thus Marinette shouldn't have been expected to expect her

"Mr. Pigeon" (yellow) - Marinette embarrasses herself in front of Adrien, with Alya making faces at her all the while

"The Evillustrator" (cyan) - Marinette is blamed for ditching Sabrina when she has an akuma to worry about, accused of "being like Chloe" (i.e: the person who Sabrina immediately goes back to anyway)

"Rogercop" (red) - Marinette, after being accused, states that everyone has the potential to be guilty, but sidesteps Adrien when someone suggests it

"Copycat" (red) - Marinette, panicked by an embarrassing confession she left on Adrien's phone (thanks to Alya), steals it to delete the message (also thanks to Alya)

"Dark Cupid" (red) - Marinette forgets to sign the love letter addressed to Adrien, which Alya laughs at her for

"Horrificator" (red) - Marinette is pressured/convinced to play Mylene's role instead when Alya throws out that she'd be kissing Adrien

"Darkblade" (cyan) - Marinette doesn't want to run for class representative because she already has enough on her plate (...what a monster?); both Alya and Alix make snarky comments at her for this

"The Mime" (green) - Marinette deletes a video on Alya phone and spends the rest of the episode trying to recreate it

"Kung Food" (cyan) - Marinette blames herself for defending her great uncle and insulting Chloe (again... what a monster?), which leads to Chloe sabotaging Wang's cooking

"Gamer" (red) - Marinette enters the gaming competition solely for Adrien

"Animan" (yellow) - Marinette offers to get Nino a date with Alya, an event that wouldn't have taken place if not for Marinette's crush (either there wouldn't have been a zoo trip at all or Alya wouldn't have been there); in addition, Alya tells Nino about Marinette's Adrien crush, which Marinette is distraught by

"Antibug" (cyan) - Ladybug is blamed for "not accepting help from others" (except she did at the beginning of the episode) and not listening to Chloe (who is a habitual liar)

"The Puppeteer" (green) - Marinette folds to Manon's "baby doll eyes" and gives her something that Nadja insisted she not have

"Reflekta" (green) - Marinette tries to steal Guiseppe's SD camera card so Juleka's picture will need retaken

"Pixelator" (red) - Marinette shirks her job as Jagged's gopher in order to get back to Adrien as soon as possible

"Guitar Villain" (blue) - Not much happens, just cool Marinette stuff; there are technically scenes of Marinette embarrassing herself around Adrien, but either no one else was there to witness it or there wasn't any significant reaction to it

"Princess Fragrance" (red) - Alya forces Marinette to go talk to Adrien, which results in Marinette tripping and losing Tikki

"Simon Says" (cyan) - Marinette... I guess is at fault for struggling to keep up with schoolwork and hero duties? That's what you get for wanting to help people, Ladybug

"Volpina" (red) - Marinette is mocked for being jealous, her following Adrien is presented as her doing it jealously (she literally says that she's going to warn Adrien about Lila stealing the book from him before Tikki stops her, but okay), and she yells at Lila as Ladybug, which is also presented as being "only about Adrien."

"Origins - Part 1 (Ladybug & Cat Noir)" (green) - Ladybug neglects to capture the akuma, having forgotten that detail

"Origins - Part 2 (Stoneheart)" (green) - The mistake from Part 1 carries over... the episode also may or may not blame Marinette for encouraging Ivan.

blue - 1 cyan - 6 green - 7 yellow - 2 red - 10

Season 2

"A Christmas Special" (red) - Marinette's "Adrien blindness" causes her to jump to conclusions and believe that a Santa Claus lookalike is an akuma

"The Collector" (red) - Marinette lies to Master Fu in order to protect Adrien, not able to believe that Adrien could be Hawk Moth

"Despair Bear" (red) - Marinette goes to Chloe's party for Adrien and is repeatedly mocked/teased for this

"Prime Queen" (cyan) - Ladybug "makes a mistake" in getting upset at Nadja for trying to pry into her romantic relationships and her potential romance with Chat Noir

"Befana" (cyan) - Marinette is blamed for "lying" to her grandmother about going to a birthday party with her friends (she didn't) and "not wanting to spend time with her" (she did, Gina is the one who neglected Marinette for literal years)

"Riposte" (cyan) - One of the more subjective ones, but going frame-by-frame, Adrien's saber bends first yet the episode calls Marinette "flustered" and "new to fencing" to say that she's wrong in her choice

"Robostus" (blue) - Mostly free of crush and mistakes, episode focuses primarily on the main plot of the akuma being caused (if I had a color for Marinette just normally being mocked/embarrassed though, it'd be here)

"Gigantitan" (red) - Needs no explanation: Marinette is embarrassed in front of the girls multiple times and the entire subplot causes the akuma that almost hits Gorilla

"The Dark Owl" (green) - Ladybug orchestrates a situation in which the Dark Owl could save her so as to not hurt his feelings, which ends in him being found out, humiliated, and akumatized

"Glaciator" (red) - Marinette is upset because Adrien didn't show up to get ice cream with her, which leads to her blowing up on Andre

"Sapotis" (blue) - Marinette goes largely blameless for everything; not much here

"Gorizilla" (yellow) - Multiple "jokes"/"mocking" about Marinette revealing skin/being in her pajamas in front of Adrien

"Captain Hardrock" (blue) - Surprisingly void of blame on Marinette despite her being depressed over Adrien; if anything, Luka apologizes for making a teasing comment when she was upset

"Zombizou" (cyan) - Marinette is blamed for being upset with Chloe for ruining her gift for Miss Bustier

"Syren" (cyan) - Ladybug is blamed for keeping secrets from Chat Noir (look at the Adrien stans for reference)

"Frightningale" (red) - Marinette is bothered by Chloe being Ladybug, but Adrien is involved so the fandom can easily put blame on her concerning her Adrien crush (see Marinette salters for reference)

"Troublemaker" (red) - Marinette's Adrien pictures are intentionally inflated/exaggerated to humiliate her more

"Anansi" (green) - I wouldn't argue if someone suggested that this is a cyan: Marinette "makes a mistake" in cheating Nora's arm-wrestle with Nino since Nora was being unreasonable

"Sandboy" (green) - Marinette agrees with Tikki that they should do something to help Nooroo without asking Fu

"Reverser" (cyan) - Marinette peeks at Marc's work and tries to help him work with Nathaniel (I see, so when Alya meddles to push Marinette past her comfort zone, it's fine, but--); she also embarrasses herself in front of Adrien over this

"Frozer" (red) - Marinette suffers because Adrien's an idiot and has tons of people in relationships to ask advice from, and he chooses to ask Marinette; Marinette appears to be "blamed" for either wanting to move on (due to the girls fighting) or agreeing to go with Adrien, along with a "bonus" (almost earning a cyan) due to Chat throwing a hissy fit over her rejecting him

"Style Queen" (cyan) - Marinette is blamed for thinking that the magic ladybugs would bring the miraculous back to Fu (see "Sentibubbler" covering for Chat for reference on how the narrative sees this)

"Queen Wasp" (cyan) - Carried over from "Style Queen"; Ladybug is blamed for losing the miraculous

"Malediktator" (red) - Marinette is made to feel bad for being glad that her bully of many years is gone (almost earning a cyan here, or even a yellow), and this is all due to Adrien; he also unintentionally convinces her to give Chloe a miraculous (her "mistake" according to future episodes), which sets off a slew of events that makes her suffer

"Catalyst" (cyan) - Alya not believing Marinette due to her Adrien crush carries over from "Volpina," almost earning this a red, but Marinette also lies about her gift for Heroes' Day. However, the fact that she is completely sleep-deprived from the night before and was being made fun of for only bringing macarons is largely ignored by the narrative and treated too much as her fault

"Mayura" (red) - When going to correct her mistake from last episode, Adrien throwing a pity party for himself makes Marinette go back on it

blue - 3 cyan - 9 green - 3 yellow - 1 red - 10

Season 3

"Backwarder" (red) - Marinette gives Adrien the wrong letter (due to each slip of paper she has conveniently looking the exact same but the episode clearly indicates it to be her fault); she's also humiliated over this

"Weredad" (cyan) - Marinette lies to Chat Noir in a panic to protect her identity. The fact that Chat Noir is an idiot who wonders why Marinette might be on her own darn balcony and that Tikki doesn't offer a better solution for the situation is given no attention

"Chameleon" (red) - Alya believing that Marinette is only upset with Lila over Adrien presumably carries over from "Volpina" and "Catalyst;" Marinette's relationship with Adrien also seems to make her more inclined to believe in what he says about doing nothing about Lila

"Animaestro" (red) - No explanation needed; Marinette's Adrien crush makes her more inclined to believe Chloe (remember "Malediktator" and "Zombizou"?) when Chloe claims that Kagami stole her seat next to Adrien, which convinces Marinette to team up with Chloe against Kagami, and this leads to Marinette being embarrassed over her crush

"Bakerix" (green) - Marinette makes a mistake in... I guess riling up her grandfather? (this one's pretty subjective and I wouldn't argue with anyone who says this should be cyan)

"Silencer" (blue) - Regardless of what "Crocoduel" says, Marinette isn't blamed in this episode for challenging Bob Roth

"Oblivio" (cyan) - Marinette seems to weirdly be blamed/punished for getting upset with Chat Noir if the smugness of Chat+Alya about the taken picture is to be believed (perhaps """explained""" in "Reflekdoll" about Chat having his role to play as the "sense of humor")

"Stormy Weather 2" (yellow) - Marinette spends a portion of the episode sulking about the little progress she's made with Adrien

"Reflekdoll" (red) - Needs no explanation: Marinette's anxiety is caused by Adrien and she's blamed for it despite Alya orchestrating everything

"Oni-Chan" (red) - Marinette chases after Adrien and Lila, which is made to be completely about Marinette's crush on Adrien despite Marinette telling Tikki about her actual concerns (which end up coming true as Kagami gets akumatized)

"Miraculer" (cyan) - Chat gets snippy with Ladybug for not telling Chloe right away (apparently assuming that Ladybug doesn't have other obligations to attend to like school; she even tells Chat that she "wouldn't have time that day"), and Ladybug was literally about to before the sentimonster and Miraculer show up

"The Puppeteer 2" (red) - Marinette repeatedly pushed and punished for liking Adrien, then punished again in front of Adrien (who she thinks is a statue) when she was actually just taking the advice that Tikki gave her

"Desperada" (red) - The guitar scene (i.e: "huh, who would've known that my wingwoman for Adrien was actually trying to wingwoman me with Luka one time!"), Aspik (i.e: "wow, the guy who I thought was perfect because that's what the narrative is always telling me actually doesn't fit what the narrative was telling me!"), and that's all I need to say

"Startrain" (blue) - Mostly mistakeless on Marinette's end; the focus is on other characters/plots (again, if I had a color for Marinette being mocked/embarrassed though, it'd also go here)

"Kwamibuster" (blue) - Marinette isn't blamed for anything; even though Master Fu isn't aware of the events at first, Tikki apologizes to Marinette in front of him later

"Feast" (yellow) - Marinette is briefly distracted by Adrien until Alya chides her so that she can show Marinette the information she might as well have hand-delivered to Hawk Moth

"Ikari Gozen" (red) - Marinette tries to sabotage her and Kagami to prevent Kagami from meeting up with Adrien

"Timetagger" (cyan) - Tikki notes Marinette's bad excuses (which are due to the sheer amount of akuma) to the point where Alya had replaced her as babysitter before Marinette explained that she couldn't show up (I wouldn't argue with anyone who said this should be blue instead)

"Party Crasher" (red) - Marinette tries to crash the secret boys-only party in order to spend time with Adrien

"Gamer 2.0" (cyan) - Marinette+Ladybug is blamed for being upset that they have no time for anything, with Ladybug in particular "making the mistake" of taking over and failing due to Chat constantly goofing off despite her urging

"Chat Blanc" (red) - Marinette is pressured/threatened by the girl squad (specifically Rose) enough that she decides to sneak into Adrien's house

"Felix" (yellow) - Marinette, after "finally" confessing to Adrien (for like--the fourth time), ends up running off and rambling in front of Luka (not knowing that he's there), which embarrasses her

"Ladybug" (red) - Alya's doubts of Marinette's hatred of Lila (implied in "Volpina" and stated in "Catalyst" to be about her crush on Adrien) carries over as Alya chides Marinette for blaming Lila, and had Marinette not listened to Adrien in "Chameleon," Lila may have been stopped early on and she wouldn't have gotten expelled (otherwise, the episode would've gotten a "cyan" because how dare Marinette be emotional at being accused of cheating and get angry at Lila)

"Christmaster" (red) - Marinette lies to Chris (in the exact way that Alya does to Manon in "Stormy Weather" but sure) in order to protect her darn privacy so Chris doesn't find out about her chest full of Adrien gifts, which leads to Chris getting akumatized

"Heart Hunter" (red) - Ladybug neglects to detransform due to being distracted by Adrimi happening, which leads to long-lasting and overly harsh consequences

"Miracle Queen" (red) - Ladybug's mistake carries over from the previous episode

blue - 3 cyan - 5 green - 1 yellow - 3 red - 14

Total: blue - 7 cyan - 20 green - 11 yellow - 6 red - 34

#category: salt

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fictionalgirldetective · 3 years

Text

Right so I am still very much not over Ace quoting Shakespeare in episode 9. Like

A) “there are more things in Heaven and Earth Agent Park.” Is such a zinger and The Bard would be pleased with the delivery

B) he’s right but Agent Park kind of is too and Ace just completely sidesteps his point in the name of ~literary flair~ and also definitely because he’s peeved lol

C) it’s from HAMLET. And it’s one of HAMLET’S LINES. Ace being compared to an angst-ridden young man who feels isolated and is consumed with a task that fulfills a need for purpose and ends up procrastinating acting on anything that would take him forward at all until circumstances force him to act with little choice left as to what to do or how to be who he wants to be…fits really well and fills me with a vague anxiety. Hamlet put off avenging his father because he doesn’t know how to go about it without hurting his mother specifically and the people who care about him generally, so he keeps trying to make things right completely on his own (which skews his perception of events) and forces him to push away and hurt everyone who loves him and wants to stand by him. The only person he doesn’t lie to or hurt is his best friend, who ends up in a position of holding him as he bleeds out, biting back an I Told You So because what good is that in the face of losing someone you love? AHHHH. Ace doesn’t parallel him in every way, but he definitely has a similar relationship to Rebecca as Hamlet has to Gertrude and he tries to fix things on his own and there are certain ThiNgS he won’t act on and ends up damaging because he’s holding back or lashing out and not actually communicating ever. AhhhhhHHHHH.

D) the scene where Amanda tells Ace that he isn’t really the Good Guy™️ that he thinks he is reads so much like Hamlet’s “Get thee to a nunnery- wouldst thou be a breeder of sinners?” line to Ophelia. Like one is saying to the other that what they put into the would is poisonous and pathetic despite their best efforts, and that they shouldn’t try. To be clear, Amanda’s line came from a place of deep hurt and frustration and betrayal and Hamlet’s was aimed to hurt Ophelia so badly so that she’d leave him alone so that he could accomplish what he needed to without having to worry about her, soooo they are definitely not the same, but I think that the effect is kind of the same.

One couldn’t track direct parallels through Ace’s arc this season with Hamlet’s story, but I think that a lot of the themes are the same. Ace is under immense pressure from his father, tries to protect and look out for his mother, tries to expose and bring to justice an insidious father figure who misuses his power, pushes away and snaps at people who’s advice he can’t accept or thinks isn’t relevant, betrays and hurts people he used to have intimate relationships with for complicated political and moral reasons, and is wrestling with questions of love and honor and honesty and purpose and action and morality.

Iiiiiim just hoping that in this case the cursed key counts as the poisoned foil and that Ace’s story gets to keep developing beyond the Creepy Blue Realm. He is way less far gone than Hamlet was anyway, and probably has significantly better hair.

#nancy drew cw spoilers #nancy drew cw #hamlet #shakespeare #yelling #ace [redacted]

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volleychumps · 4 years

Note

Heyy idk if this'll make sense but,, I'm ugly (or at least not as pretty as others) and a lot of times guys would be dared to say "oh my friend likes you" while laughing at me. It made me very insecure growing up and makes me suspicious of compliments now... idk if anyone can relate but can you write a fluffy comfort scenario with Bokuto, Kageyama, or Tsukki? Maybe with reader laughing at a confession because she thinks it's a joke or something? Thank you, I love your work and stay healthy ❤️

Aw bby~ I’m sure you’re absolutely goregous <3 hope you enjoy your request!

Insecure S/O Reacting To a Confession (Bokuto, Kageyama, Tsukishima)

This is set in a time in which you’ve developed trust issues because a confession before had been a joke- so a little angsty ngl

---------------------------------------------

Bokuto

“She’s not coming, is she?”

“Calm down. You told her to meet you after school- the bell let out less than five minutes ago.” Akaashi’s voice sounded through the spiker’s phone as Bokuto releases a bigger sigh than he expected. Nervousness tingled through his muscles while the burly boy seemed to tremble in both excitement and fear for what was to come, leaning against one of the many exits to the school as golden eyes scoped the area for your figure.

“Today’s the day, Akaashi, I just know it!”

“Yeah. You said that yesterday. And the day before that one. Not to mention every day for the past month-”

“I think she’s coming!!” A hand slipped out of his pants pocket as he pushes off the wall giddily.

“Well, be careful- I don’t know if you heard about it, but-”

“See you at practice, my #1 Wingman!”

Bokuto ends the call, the last thing he hears being a sigh of Akaashi’s at his abrupt cut off. That could wait. A growing grin began at Bokuto’s lips as you, confused, approached him with a crumpled paper in your hand- looking as beautiful as ever in the eyes of the ace.

“Bokuto-san...?”

“You made it!”

He couldn’t see the hesitation in your steps, or the nervousness in your movements for the national-known volleyball spiker had his gold eyes downcasted at his feet, a hand nervously coming up to rest on the back of his neck as he internally prepares himself.

“Was there something you needed from me?” You wrung your hands out, biting your lip as you seemed to fidget in place, the scenario being all to familiar with what you once had to go through. However, you knew better- it just simply wasn’t possible.

Bokuto was always friendly towards you, but previous events had placed a limit in your head on just how far that friendliness just happened to extend. Until-

“Y/N...do you maybe want to go out with me?”

Your jaw slackened a little as you still in shock, watching as the boy you thought was eons out of your league blushed a little, squeezing his eyes tight as the question came out rushed, the words fumbling over each other.

But you still heard it.

Your chest sunk and heat flamed in your cheeks as you push out your first instinct- a laugh. A laugh bubbled up in your throat at the question, and Bokuto opened his eyes, confusion and anxiety rising in his stomach at the sound that still made his heart race. Nervously, he began laughing too.

“Alright.” You make out between giggles. “Who put you up to this?”

All laughter stopped on his end as you continue to giggle, but your eyes were a tad bit poignant as your fists clenched at your sides. Bokuto straightens, furrowing his brows at the ridiculous question.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is a prank right?” Your voice wobbled. “Was it Rui? His friend Droy?”

“Y/N, what-?”

“You shouldn’t play with girls’ feelings like that, you know?” You continue, smiling yet your eyes screamed of another story. “But in my case, it’s funny- right?”

Bokuto blinked, mouth agape at the accusation in your words as you take a shaky breath, trying not to show weakness as Bokuto takes a careful step in front of you. Was this what Akaashi was trying to tell him?

“Y/N, I’m serious!” The ace exclaimed, causing you to finally meet his eyes with your slightly watery ones. “You’re absolutely goregous, there’s no way this is a prank!”

“Y-You’re taking this too far...”

“I’m not, because there isn’t anything to take!” Bokuto grabs your hand in his, intertwining your pinkies as you can’t help but smile a little at the childish gesture. “I promise you, Y/N, I like you! Way too much, I’ve been trying to tell you for the past month now, but...you scare me. In a I’ve-never-had-these-feelings before kind of way.”

You find yourself leaning into his palm as Bokuto smiles, golden eyes gleaming genuinely as he cups your face. “Who made you think of yourself this way?”

“N-No one in particular...” You lie, looking off to the side as you feel yourself being tugged gently into the sweet boy’s chest, causing you to yelp a little as Bokuto crosses a boundary, digging his face into the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

“Please.” You stop trying to push him away at the sincerity in his voice. “Can I change that? I can. I promise you I can, if you give me a chance!”

Shakily, you look up to the sky, feeling Bokuto’s warm breath on your neck as he spoke, wondering if this was worth learning to trust again, your arms wrapping around his mid-section as you did so.

Your voice quiets, cracking slightly as you hold him back just a little tighter.

“One chance. Don’t let me regret this.”

Kageyama

“This is ridiculous, you moron!”

“Trust me, she’s gonna love it Kageyama-Kun!” Hinata flashes his setter a big thumbs up as Kageyama groans, glaring into the bouquet of flowers with pink dusted across his cheeks. After Hinata had snuck a horribly written note into your shoe locker- Kageyama couldn’t put his confession off anymore, much to the setter’s dismay. Admiring you from afar had been enough, and confessing you face to face had once been a daydream-

“Can’t I just, you know, text her?” The raven haired boy attempts to escape one more time as Hinata points a finger to the spot where he was standing stubbornly.

“Nope! As if you could get her number anyway-” Hinata dodges the hit coming his way with ease, sidestepping as he continues his tangent. “So you’re going to stand right there and wait for Y/N-chan to come! I’m going home now, and tomorrow- you better have a newly minted girlfriend!”

“I should’ve never asked you for advice.”

“See you tomorrow, and you’re welcome.”

Kageyama scoffs, snarky reply falling on silent lips as Hinata mounts his bike and takes off before he can get it out, leaving the blue-eyed setter standing at military position near the courtyard, red roses tightened in his grasp around the less thorny areas. He hoped Hinata was smart enough to not mix up the two locations.

“Kageyama-Kun!”

Said boy almost drops his flowers when you round the corner, now changed out of your school shoes as Kageyama swallows- a futile attempt to aid his now dry mouth. You took small steps towards him as you find a lump growing in your throat at the scene before you, memories flashing in your mind at what once had been.

Regardless, you managed a tight smile as Kageyama blinks once. Then twice as if to make sure this was really happening.

“You...wanted to see me about something?” You question formally, ignoring the red hue of the roses as Kageyama stutters out a response, bright blue eyes darting all over the courtyard.

“I...um....you are....UGH-”

In any other circumstance, you might’ve found this cute- but the only thing you could think of was how good he was at acting.

“Take your time.” Your eyes dim down a little as the familiar unease rises in your stomach.

“D-Date!” Kageyama manages, the pink on his cheeks now turning into a bright red. “I want to g-go on a date with you...!”

You press your lips together as a heat pricks the corner of your eyes, the one image you didn’t want to remember blurring perfectly over the one in front of you.

.... Again?

Kageyama curses, offering you the roses with one hand shakily as the back of his hand covers his mouth, blue eyes seeming to glare off to the side in utter regret. “I heard you like flowers, s-so....”

“You don’t need to do this, Kageyama-Kun.” You find yourself saying, surprised at how stable your voice was as Kageyama’s arm slackens a little, the bouqet lowering in height as he takes in your words- in his case, your response.

“It’s cruel, you know? I get it- you’re popular, attractive, and people want to be your friend- but this? I know I can’t be with someone like you the way I am now, so you have to show me firsthand?”

“Huh?”

You chuckle humorlessly at the genuine confusion in his voice before laughing a little. “It’s hilarious, isn’t it? Poor, naive, ugly girl believes for just a second that the boy she likes wants her back.”

Kageyama’s eyes widen a little, still trying to process what you’re saying as the roses fall slack at his side. But the only thing he’s able to get out, is-

“Wait, you like me?”

You spin on your heel, flustered you admitted it, before beginning to walk off.

“Goodbye, Kageyama-Kun.”

“W-Wait!” Before he can stop himself, he finds himself grabbing you from behind to stop your leaving, your eyes widening as the bouqet of flowers remains tightened in his grasp as he does so, your back against his chest. The aromatic scent fills your nose as he successfully stops you from going anywhere.

“I-I don’t know why you think you’re ugly or any of those things, but you aren’t.” Kageyama mumbles quickly, and you’re shocked to see that he’s trembling at the touch. “But I wasn’t lying, or trying to play you. I want to go on a date with you...and if you like me too, there shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“Shit!” Kageyama releases you right away, and you step away subconciously as you find yourself believing him, a hand over the clothed part of your chest as you do, cheeks blooming with a pink of their own.

“...I think I’d like that.”

“Like what?” Kageyama questions obliviously as you groan, blushing in a way that made the setter want to admire you even closer than from afar.

“The date, don’t make me say it!”

The blue-eyed setter releases a sigh of relief, his heart being sent on an emotional rollercoaster coming to an end as he chuckles the slightest bit at your embarrassed stature, offering the roses again in a now relaxed-manner.

“Right. So can you maybe take the damn flowers and be my girlfriend?”

Tsukishima

“I regret this. I’m going home.”

“Tsukki! No!” Yamaguchi whines, pulling on his friend’s sleeve for the second time in six minutes.

“She isn’t coming. Waiting outside her classroom is creepy anyway. She might’ve even already gone home.” Tsukishima says straight on, glancing at his childhood friend before the freckled boy could interject. “What are you even doing here?”

“Moral support!”

“Yeah, could you maybe...do that somewhere else?”

Yamaguchi sniffs once, frowning. “I get that you’re nervous, Tsukki, but don’t take it out on me. Text me later and send Y/N my regards, okay?”

“I’m not nervous.” The tall blonde claims, swiping through his playlist when in reality- the butterflies in his stomach said otherwise.

“That’s all you got out of that?” Yamaguchi sweat drops, shouldering his bag a little more before waving as he begins to walk off. “Be nice to Y/N!”

“Wasn’t gonna kill her.” Tsukishima mumbles to no one as he’s left by his lonesome in the empty school corridor after school had ended, mostly everyone leaving or going to attend their club activities. He knew from Yachi who shared your class- that you stayed a little after school to study for a bit before leaving.

Tsukishima had discovered about his emotional surge towards you when you had visited practice one day to drop off Yachi’s notebook- only to notice you more and more each time you had passed him by to the point where you would smile and wave while greeting him by name. Soon, all other girls seemed to become see-through, leaving you bright in a sea of unfamiliar heads.

“Crap!” You stumble back, a relieved laugh filling the corridor as the blonde blinks, wondering how he had gotten so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t even seen you emerge or make himself known.

“You scared me, Tsukki!” You whine, shifting your bag upon your shoulder before blinking in confusion. “Wait, what are you doing here? Is the volleyball club off today-?”

“Go out with me.”

Your breath hitches at the sudden attack.

Tsukishima remains indifferent, thankful he was able to even say it, as he shoved his hands in his pockets, eyeing you seriously through his spectacles before you find yourself back there again. Back where your trust was stripped and your pride was stomped on before you smile- a smile that was anything but cheerful.

“That’s not a very funny joke, Tsukki.” You laugh a little, hand tightening around your bag strap as you refuse to meet his eyes, your gaze falling on his shoes as you become overwhelmed with past events.

“I’m not joking. Go out with me.” He repeats, not asking, but in a way where it sounded like he was basically telling you.

“...How far are you willing to go?” You feel wetness brim your eyes, but your smile still remains- shaky yet present- as your voice cracks differently from the way you used to call his name.

“What the hell are you-?”

A smirk and multiple laughs ring in your head from your memories before you finally snap.

“Stop screwing around, alright?”

Tsukishima’s brow quirks up once, and in the next few moments, you gasp as your back is suddenly touching a nearby locker- Tsukishima’s hand resting by your side to create the illusion of entrapment as he leans in to you, and you don’t have to look up to know that his gaze was searing into you with a mixture of frustration and something else you couldn’t pinpoint.

“Who’s screwing around?” His voice was quiet and irritable, and you swallow the lump in your throat as a few stray tears slip.

“I’m just a joke, right?” You mumble, barely audible as you breathe in his scent from decreased proximity. “You boys always toy with girls like they’re your little playthings-”

“Are you talking about that shitty prank that bastard pulled on you a few months back?”

Your eyes snap up before you can stop them. “You...know about that?”

“Why the hell are we here wasting our breaths on them?” Tsukishima questions, irritation evident in his tone. “I don’t do these kinds of things, ever, and you seriously think I’d be here telling you I like you as some kind of shit joke? Give me a break.”

You blink, believing his harsh words as Tsukishima sighs, relaxing his neck so his head falls on your shoulder.

“On the bright side you finally looked at me. Understood, I hear you loud and clear.”

You bite your lip when he moves to step away from you, your hands clasping at the sides of his shirt before you can stop yourself.

“I...I’ll go out with you, Tsukki.”

The blonde’s eyes widen a fraction as you bury your head in his chest.

“Just...please please don’t be like the others.”

“I thought I told you.” Tsukki’s pointer finger prods at your chin, causing you to look up at him as he leans down so your noses brush.

“You’re wasting your breath on the wrong thing, Y/N.”

---------------------

General Works: @takemetovalhalla @savemesteeb @kasandrafaye @dreebbles

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu anime #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto kotarou #haikyuu kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu scenarios

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queen-haq · 3 years

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 5

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and light smut.

Words: ~2000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

******

You didn’t grow up with hugs, so you never really understood the big deal about them. Nothing irritated you more than when acquaintances wanted to hug you. Over the years you’d learned to accept it and go with the flow but intimate gestures from people you barely knew made you uncomfortable. The only time you didn’t mind being hugged was by Davina and even then she was careful not to overdo it. But right now, with Billy’s arms locked around you, you pressed up against him, he felt so good, so solid, you never wanted to leave his embrace. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so cherished, and the fact that it was Billy – you didn’t want to think about what that meant.

You wrapped your hands around the back of his shoulders, simply breathing him in.

At first the comfort Billy provided was enough to distract you from what happened today, but then you were suddenly struck by the memory of Adam pointing his gun at you. Thanks to your father’s outbursts you learned a long time ago to stay calm in hostile situations, and that skill came in handy this morning. While Adam spewed hatred at you and accused you of destroying his life, you kept him preoccupied and talking until the cops came up and managed to haul him away. But once the danger subsided, all of that unleashed fear came back with a vengeance and you hadn’t been able to shake it off since then. Shopping, and then Billy’s unexpected arrival, had provided a temporary distraction but it was still lingering in you, threatening to engulf you at any moment.

Your fingers trailed up Billy’s back. One hand cradled the nape of his neck while the other reached up to play with his hair. He was so tall you had to stand on your tip-toes to run your fingers through his silky strands. You dropped a soft kiss on his chest, over his sweater, then on his skin as your lips dragged up to the base of his throat. His hands caressed languidly down your back, and you groaned when he squeezed your ass. Your hips ground into his, needing more from him than he was giving.

Adam’s face flashed through your mind, his sheer hatred of you stamped across his angry features. Your chest felt constricted, like you couldn’t breathe.

Before you could change your mind, you reached up to kiss Billy.

Every thought in your head instantly dissipated.

You’d forgotten what it felt like to have his mouth devour yours, hot and wild and reckless, tongue on tongue, tongue against teeth, nothing about it soft or tender but simple, pure assault on your senses. He didn’t just kiss with his mouth, he kissed with his whole being, every movement of his reverberating throughout your body. Even something innocuous like his fingers fisting your hair heightened your desires, making you more frantic.

Usually he was very much in sync with what you wanted, he could read when you were in the mood for slow and sensuous, or when you wanted to be fucked hard and rough, and he always delivered. But today he seemed to want to take his time even though you kept pushing for more. Charging forward, you trapped him against the wall behind, kissing him ferociously while your hands rushed to the buttons on his jeans. As you tried to undo them your fingers shook violently, frustrating you so badly that you tore your mouth away from his just so you could focus on ripping them off.

“Y/N,” he groaned, panting.

You didn’t look at him, too busy unzipping his jeans.

“Y/N, slow down…”

Your fingers delved beneath his boxers to palm his cock. You missed the feel of him, the touch of him, how slick he felt in your hands when he was hard. Before Billy you never thought cocks were beautiful but his was thick, long and divine, made to give you the most incredible of pleasures. Your mouth and pussy thirsted for him-

Abruptly, Billy grabbed your shoulders and forced you to back off.

Caught up in passion, your brain scrambled to figure out why he was no longer touching you. Breaths labored, you stared up at him, confused, as he pulled up his jeans. Before you could catch your breath he was whirling you around, forcing you against the wall, gripping your wrists tightly over your head. His penetrating eyes bore into you, like he could see right through you or something, and the thought scared you. Leaning forward you tried to kiss him but he angled back, rejecting your attempts.

“Hey,” he murmured. “Just stop. Okay?”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“I do but-”

“Isn’t this why you showed up here?”

“Look, you’re messed up right now.”

“I’m fine!” you snapped, struggling to release your arms from his grip. “I want this, ok? I want you. Let me show you. Let me fuck you.”

He focused on you closely, his eyes dark and stormy, before he finally loosened his grasp. When you moved to cradle his face, he retreated back. Forget kissing you, he didn’t even touch you. Instead, he knelt down to pick up your robe from the ground and cover you with it. That’s when you noticed you were naked. You hadn’t even realized your robe had slipped off.

You were naked and desperately throwing yourself at him and he was purposely rejecting you. It felt like a slap in the face. You were mortified.

Pushing him away you tightened the robe around you and tried to sidestep past him. Except he blocked your path.

You tried again, he did the same.

“What?” You snarled, swallowing the lump in your throat. You were embarrassed as hell but you’d die before telling him that.

He tilted your chin, forcing you meet his stare. In turn, you glared at him.

“Sex isn’t going to make you forget what happened this morning,” he said softly.

“Maybe I just wanted to feel something good.”

“Doesn’t last long. Then you’re stuck feeling shitty again.”

You were tired of his sanctimonious bullshit. He of all people shouldn’t have been lecturing you on using sex as a distraction. “Like you’ve never used me for sex?”

“Fine, yeah, I have. And I don’t want to be used in the same way.”

“You’re such a hypocrite!”

“I don’t want you to regret being with me.”

The intensity in his eyes was spellbinding, piercing you right through to the core. You trembled when he brushed your cheek with his fingers, your heart pounding. Throughout your time together, you’d studied and learned many of his expressions and nuances. The excited bounce in his movements when Anvil booked a new client, the underlying bitterness in his words on those days he’d gone to visit his mother, how dark and glossy his eyes shined when he was about to come. But the way he was watching you now – this was new to you. This was dangerous territory. The last thing you wanted was to get caught up in Billy Russo again.

You wrenched his hand away. “If I have regrets, I wouldn’t bother you with them.” You shrugged your shoulders. “Anyway, I told you yesterday. If we have sex again, I’d see it as closure.”

The shift in his eyes was instant. A second ago there had been warmth in his gaze, now there was only disdain. “So you can move on?”

“Not just me. You too.”

Molten eyes narrowed into slits. “Maybe I don’t want to move on.”

“What does that even mean?”

His jaw was clenched, his mouth set in a hard line. “Why do you have to make this so complicated? Why can’t we just go back to how things were?”

“I threw myself at you five minutes ago and you rejected me! And now you’re telling me you want to keep sleeping together?” You massaged your temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Are you purposely trying to fuck with my head?”

The sound of your phone vibrating loudly against the coffee table drew your attention. You marched over to see who was calling. Spotting Roger’s name, you tensed immediately. Why would he be calling you late at night unless it was to tell you Adam was being released? Your heart started pounding as you picked up the call. “Hey, Roger. What’s up?”

Billy snickered beside you and you cast him a dirty glance, turning away from him.

“How are you holding up? I was worried about you, I wanted to check in.”

You breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t calling with news about Adam. “I’m fine.”

“I received an email from HR. They said you refused an appointment with the therapist?”

“I don’t need to talk to anyone,” you insisted. You’d tried the therapy route years ago and found it to be a waste of time.

“Unfortunately, it’s not optional. You know how it is. Insurance. Liability. All of that. We just need to make sure you’re okay.”

You exhaled a resigned sigh, rubbing the side of your head again. Today was not your day. “Fine. I’ll make an appointment.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He cleared his throat. “And if you need to talk to me, I’m also here.”

“Thank you for the offer but I’m alright.”

“How about we meet for dinner tomorrow? I want to run some ideas by you about the expansion.”

You groaned internally. You had a stack of work you needed to do and you were hoping to catch up on it this weekend, but turning down a work dinner with your boss wasn’t a smart idea. “Sure. Tomorrow night sounds good.”

“Any preferences?”

“How about Piatti’s?”

“You love that place, don’t you?”

You chuckled. “Yeah, it’s one of my faves.”

“I’ll make reservations for 7pm. See you then.”

“Yeah. Thanks for checking in, Roger.” You hung up and put the phone back on the coffee table.

“Yeah, Roger, thanks for checking in.”

Hearing Billy imitating your voice, you turned around to find him balanced against the edge of the sofa arm, his long legs sprawled in front of him. Arms crossed, he was staring at you with a stern expression. “Isn’t that sweet? First his negligence almost gets you killed, and then he checks in to play the hero.”

You frowned at him. If he was anyone else, you would have thought they were jealous – but you knew Billy didn’t feel that way about you.

His lips twisted into a sneer. “And of course you eat it all up. Because he’s such a fucking sweetheart.”

“What is your problem with him? He’s a nice guy, and he was actually really great with me today.”

“I bet.” Billy’s voice was laced with hostility. “Nice. Sweet. He’s checking of all the right boxes, isn’t he? But can loverboy get you wet? Would he even know how to make you come?”

You finally snapped. “Are you jealous or something?”

Silence hung in the air as he simply stared at you, his jaw ticking. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not my fucking girlfriend.”

His words may have hurt, but they also served as a cruel reminder of why you needed to walk away. “That’s right. I’m not. So this thing you’re doing…” You wagged you index finger back and forth between you and Billy. “This interrogation stops now. I don’t answer to you. Who I’m seeing, who I’m fucking, who I’m interested in, it’s none of your business. So stay out of my life and I’ll stay out of yours.”

He stood up to his full height, probably trying to intimidate you. However you held firm, leveling him with a heated glare as he closed the distance between you. His eyes were cold, contempt etched on his face. “Bring the vibrator on your date night with Roger. Probably only way he can get you off.”

“Fuck you, Billy!”

“Not interested, sweetheart,” he snarked back, walking past you.

When you heard the door shut a few seconds later, you walked over to lock it.

You spent the rest of the evening trying to distract yourself from the warring thoughts in your head. When it wasn’t Adam’s face haunting you, it was Billy mocking you. You tried watching a movie but that did nothing. You attempted working next, but you couldn’t focus. Eventually you realized there was only one thing you could do to lessen the fear. You needed to get ahead of it. Adam may have been angry and unhinged, but he came from a powerful family. Even if he couldn’t be controlled, they could be. So you did what you always did to protect yourself. You started acquiring information you could use as leverage against your enemies.

Part 6

A/N - Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the likes, reblogs, comments, feedback and the asks. I’m so grateful to have wonderful readers like you. As always, if you have the time, I’d love to read your thoughts on this chapter.

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, please let me know. A few people have asked to be tagged, but for whatever reason, Tumblr wouldn’t let me. I still have you on the list, though you may not receive notifications.

Tag List

@yourfavoritefruitybitch @voyevoda-thejoy @adreamemporium @queenmalhinewahine @gubleryum @galaxyjane @xceafh @maralisa124 @tomhollandisabae @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lil-baby-nor @all-art-is-quite-useless @tanyaherondale @nashibirne @dour-trash @thetallassgirl @athenamikaelson @agent-jbarnes @primadonnasdream @aleksanderwh0r3 @elisemockingbird @nihilismworld @archisur @nemesis729 @lysawayne @kaqua @ladyblablabla @lemasonda @advictedtohim @24-martie @tarkanelima-blog @shinebrightlikeafanbase @krystal-clear1 @damalseer @dontjinx-it @darkishx @wanderlusting-about-life @thatguppienamedbae @happypepperdog @bat-revival @sassygirl25 @consulting--heroes @the-celestial-kitsune @mackaywhore @ablxssm @competitive-dust @red-head011 @exo-1204 @sunsetenigma @millieb-3199 @chatnain @licensedcheek @tinkertailor1212 @vertesalope @safetyhtom @acourtofglassandroses @eliwinchester-barnes @finnismyoriginalsin @weallhaveadestiny

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #billy russo imagine #the punisher #my fics

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axther · 3 years

Text

𝐍 𝐎 𝐁 𝐎 𝐃 𝐘

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬. || 𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐱𝐢𝐚𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: falling from a great height, yandere, obsessive behaviour

taglist: @ererokii, @patt-writes-stuff

i’ve hit 200 followers!! <3 thank you all and I am super grateful for each and every one of you!

Nobody understood Xiao.

His life was riddled with contradictions. He was tossed from one foul life to the next, with pain and horror at every corner. He felt he deserved it, knew he did. But was it so terrible to want something more than to just wait for his inevitable death? Was he such a coward to want to feel alright?

Nobody understood him.

There were very few that even attempted. The traveller and Verr Goldet were the only ones he really considered to be his friends, but nothing more. He didn’t speak to them unless they approached him first. He just stood on the highest balcony of Wangshu Inn and wondered how long it would take for him to die if he leapt.

But then he saw her.

She was, in a word, moonlight. It was one of the lonelier, quiet nights at the Inn and right after the Lantern Rite Festival. There were even some Xiao lanterns, oddly enough, still laying around. The moon was rounder and brighter than Xiao had ever seen, though it might’ve just been because of her. She walked the docks, barely a whisper of a person with a glow all about her. The stars and the sea seemed to have a gravitational pull around her, lapping at the sky and docks, trying to touch even the air around her. She was divine in every right, and for the first time in years, Xiao felt the world around him melt away. This was different from any of the other times that he felt the distance between him and Tevyat. Tevyat was rough, sharp and serrated like a knife when he wandered into the depths of his mind. But this time, it was smooth. It was a pillow for him to sit on as he watched this random woman walk past the pier and into the quiet market.

He leaned against the railing, carefully watching her stop by the bridge and pause. She held her hand out, and a small, white crystalfly fluttered to life in her palm. She seemed to whisper soft words to it, and Xiao felt a deep tugging in his heart. He wanted to know what she said, how it would feel if she whispered into his ears on quiet nights like this. Maybe what her hand, on his back, would feel like. Were they calloused? Scarred? Or were they soft? Long or short nails?

Xiao placed his head in his hands, feeling almost human as he stared at her. The dress she wore was simple but glowed even amongst the dim lanterns. She was a walking beam of moonlight, and Xiao realised with a growing feeling of dread that she wasn’t human. No, the way she stepped and the little wings in her hand proved otherwise. The way that no one batted an eye at her, but simply went on with their sickly sweet night proved otherwise, the way that she was too beautiful and too whole proved otherwise.

She was a moon spirit, Xiao realised.

He broke from the balcony to see her move again, dashing to the other side in hopes of not missing a glimpse of her. Something in him recoiled at the sight of her, sick, but he shoved it down. No, she was too beautiful and sweet and kind to make him feel disgusting. No matter if she was an adeptus, a spirit, or even Rex Lapis in disguise. No, she was something far beyond. And so was Xiao, he realised. Something in him longed for her in a way he hadn't felt in so, so long. And as she set the little crystalfly free, she turned and looked up, soft eyes going wide at the sight of Xiao. They were like the moon themselves, bright and so comforting that Xiao never wanted to let go. He was leaning over the side of the balcony, near falling over, hoping that she could never break eye contact with him again. But she slowly turned, walking back to the pier, and Xiao realised she was leaving.

Something in him snapped.

He leapt down from the balcony, hopping from eave to eave as fast as he could. He felt delusional, drunk on something he hadn't tasted in years. His heart raced and his head pounded as he slammed into the pier in a way that would've killed any lesser man. She was barely in front of him, and for a second, Xiao caught a whiff of some sort of distance, addictive scent-qingxin, rich and divine. It made him almost dizzy, and for a split second, he wanted nothing more than hold her so tight in his arms that the scent oozed out of her like blood and she would stain him forever. Qingxin was marked for him forever, rotting his head and leaving it all hollow.

"You-!" She gasped and clutched her hand to her heart. "Are you alright?!"

Her voice was melodic, a sweet, holy song that made his head feel heavy. He didn't realise he was panting until he saw her concerned gaze fall upon him, the lonely sinner.

"I..." At once, all words seemed to escape Xiao. They were stolen by her satellite soul, sucked in and kept for her own. Was this her own greed, or her unknowing iron grip? Was Xiao going mad?

"Please, sir!" She put her hand on Xiao's cheek, and it was cold like he dipped his head into the ocean. It was so, so cold, and Xiao leaned in as a man starved. "That fall...though, I don't think you're human..."

"Xiao." Xiao's voice came out rougher than he ever thought he was capable of, and he shut his eyes. "I am...Xiao."

"Xiao?" She started pulling her hand away, but Xiao snapped his arm up to keep it in place. It made his head stop pounding, and the night seem so peaceful.

"Wait." He seemed only capable of one word at a time, but he was fine with it. Being even in the presence of her was enough for him.

"Oh, no..." The young woman trailed off, still trying to tug her hand away. "You've..."

"Your name?" Xiao interrupted before mentally kicking himself. How dare he stop such a song from flowing? Who was he before this glorious angel?

"YN-! Oh!" She gasped, finally ripping her arm away. "I must go, I'm so sorry..."

"Wait!" Xiao barked, but she managed to sidestep him and start backing slowly towards the end of the pier. He felt like he was about to convulse, and collapse into a thousand little shards of glass. "No, don't go!"

"I shouldn't have come..." YN whispered, looking horrified. "I didn't think the rumours of you being here were true..."

"Does it matter?" His voice was rough, and he realised this was like a predator chasing prey. YN's pretty little eyes were wide, flushed with concern and horror.

"Yes! Oh, gods, I'm so sorry!"

"Just stay here," Xiao murmured, drunk off of her pleading. "You can right whatever you've done wrong."

"It's not that simple..." YN whispered, gasping as Xiao took a sudden extra step and took her shoulders into his hands, gazing up into her eyes.

"Please..." Xiao felt almost thirsty, dizzy and drowsy at the thrill of her being so close. "You can stay the night."

"I have to go..." YN's eyes flickered nervously over to his hands, gently pulling them into her own if only to get him to let go of her.

"I..." For a moment, just a single, spotty moment, Xiao felt something in him wake up. What was he doing? What did he do that made this sweet young woman look so horrified? Why? Why?

But then it was gone, like the crystalfly in the breeze. And it was too late.

YN had booked it to the end of the pier and Xiao had to launch himself, hurling his spear barely an inch from her and opening his arms. He could feel her dress on his skin, the flurry of movement, the soft gasp that made his ears ring. His arms were almost around her hips, he almost had her all to himself-

When she erupted into a thousand pearly crystalflies.

Xiao fell to his knees, arms closing in on nothing as they all fluttered out of his way and towards the lake, and he froze. The world stopped turning, the lake stopped churning, and the moon mocked him cruelly. His head was pounding, his arms hurt, he felt like every breath was going to be his last.

And Xiao howled. Xiao howled like an injured dog, screaming and begging for that last moment of peace that made him think everything was going to be alright.

This wouldn't be the last time he would see her, Xiao thought. No. He was going to tear apart Liyue, Tevyat, and even Celestia if it came down to it.

All for her. How romantic.

"Did you know, Traveller?" Verr Goldet was talking to the Traveller, humming softly as something screamed ever so distantly.

"Hm? What's up?" Paimon squeaked, tilting her head alongside Aether.

"There's a legend about moon spirits around here." She pointed to the balcony, up to the great full moon. "If you see one, you'll go mad with love upon seeing something so ancient and beautiful. Legend had it that they disguise themselves from mortals, leaving only the adepti and archons to see them and only coming out at a full moon. I wonder how it is if an adeptus sees one."

"That's weird to bring up." Paimon frowned, and Aether nodded. "Did something happen?"

"Be careful around Xiao, Traveller." Verr Goldet stared with a dark look at the balcony. "Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it can all come crashing down."

Nobody understood Xiao. And nobody ever could.

#xiao x reader #yandere xiao #moon spirit reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin oneshot #xiao #x reader #brain go brr #tw yandere

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qsphyxias · 3 years

Text

𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖐𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘

if you fetishize mlm/nblm relationships, get the fuck out of here!

synopsis ; you took a reckless bullet for your ever so beloved detective/partner, and shuichi isn't too happy about it. understatement ; he was fucking devastated

warnings ; hospitals, gun violence, getting shot, inaccurate depictions of police and police negotiations, cussing, major angst, male! reader uses he/him pronouns

note ; the first one-shot of this blog, everybody dance ( the imagine isn’t based on the song, but i just thought it had the same vibe ig )

words ; 4k

⊱ ────── {⋅.𝐢𝐝𝐟𝐜 - 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐫.⋅} ────── ⊰

ring, ring.

...

ring, ring.

what's that noise?

ring, ring.

why won't it stop?

ring, rin-

"hello?" gratuity washed over your body, the feeling causing you to relax as the obnoxious noise had been replaced by the gentle tone of the one you love. suddenly you didn't feel as bitter as you did before; when you had first awoken from your slumber. "ah... yes, this is... detective shuichi saihara."

your head shifted towards the sound of shuichi's voice, eyes flickering to him and back to the small dot on the ceiling you had first caught sight of.

shuichi darted his eyes over to your turned back, hands cupping the phone as he tried to muffle the authoritative tone your shared boss had been emitting. "... but he's still recovering. no, i don't think that that's-" the anxious detective's voice grew a little louder out of panic, causing him to immediately lower it back down to a whisper as his mind reminded him that you were still sleeping — or so he thought. "just... at least give him one more day. please. i'll take all his work for that day."

you blinked, brain whirling as you tried to process the information that seemed to be dripping from shuichi's lips. who's he talking about? you groaned quietly, feeling as if an anvil and a hammer had been clanging obnoxiously at your head.

shuichi whipped his head towards you, sad eyes widening as he had caught your groan, however soft it was. "s/o?" nearly dropping the phone, he tightened his grip and spoke into the receiver again, quickly wanting to end the call so he could go check on you. "oh- um, th- thank you so much, yes- okay, thank you again." without hearing his boss's reply, he abruptly ended the call and kept in mind he would have to hear the scolding later — however, it wasn't like he really cared at all in that moment.

"sh-?" you paused, shuffling to sit up from your waxy, cotton hospital bedsheets as you finally decided to announce your consciousness. fuck, how did the rest of his name go? come on brain! he just said it!

shuichi had been repeating and reversing what he had wanted to say to you the moment he saw you shuffle up and groan, as well as what you needed to hear. his head was sure to detonate, each second that passed by brought him closer to his limit.

despite shuichi's selfish desire to hear your lips say his name again, he held his greedy urges back ; he needed to talk to you first. "no, you ...you don't have to talk. actually i... need to talk to you first." that's right, shuichi. stay calm, don't scare him, he's still recovering.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling yourself slightly perspire at his serious tone ; he was usually a pretty calm, serious guy, so you weren't sure why you had been so nervous. this was quite common, however, talks like this happened a lot at his demand ; he believed communication was key — and since then you were always at his mercy with his sweet and honest sentiments.

however cringe-worthy they may have seemed, he never failed to make you flush from his honesty ; though the embarrassment he caused you had been nothing but unintentional, or at least...you believed it to be.

laughing nervously, you opened your mouth to say a stupid joke to lighten up the mood, but the throbbing feeling of your shoulder being detached, reattached, pulled, strained, and yanked stopped you from doing...well, practically anything. wincing, you gripped your wound instinctively.

"s/o! i- i said not to talk...!" the sudden, yet the revolting sound of his chair scraping against the floor hit your ears, but shuichi's hands cradling your face distracted you from the gross sound. "s- shuichi?" his touch acted as a brain restarted, as your pupils suddenly dilated ; memories of yesterday coming back to you and hitting you like that bullet you took for him.

that bullet you took for him...

"i- i did it out of love! just- just let me go! i can't go to jail! i just fucking can't!" with blurred and fuzzed vision, there stood the perp, a small pistol held improperly in his quivering hands as he spewed out excuses and nonsense.

"listen, it's going to be okay...! just put down the gun, and i promise, we'll try and work this out ; i'll talk to the judge about your prison time, just...trust me, okay?" right...you remember now. you could remember so vividly how beautiful he looked, even as he was practically sweating out of his fancy turtleneck, he still somehow was able to keep a calm attitude.

he was...he was such a nice guy. well, that was an understatement.

despite his amazingly calm and reserved speech, the perp remained unconvinced, yet also unsure of what he was supposed to do. that much was obvious when he kept darting his eyes all over the room indecisively picking one spot to focus on.

as you held your gun firmly and pointed in your hands, you flickered your eyes back onto the perp, despite wanting to stare at the detective for hours ; you had a job to do.

you sidestepped towards the detective that had kept his golden eyes glued onto the perp carefully, leaning your head into his side as you whispered something into his ear, "you know you can't actually do that, right?" you could see his adam's apple bob in response.

"i'll... i'll figure something out." shuichi adjusted his grip on the gun he held, eyebrows furrowed in such a breathtaking way. you could feel your knees buckle.

"what are you guys- what are you guys talking about, huh? talking about- how-how i'm such a pathetic piece of shit!? huh?!" you threw your head back to the shaking, wary man, gun tightening in your grip. "we weren't. just take his offer, it's the best thing you can do." your tone had been firmer than shuichi's, not as kind, but hey ; that was your whole dynamic.

"we really weren't." shuichi agreed, sincerity was written all over his face. a small part of you felt envious of his stare.

"stop-stop lying to me!" the perp's frantic switching of his gunpoint, seemed to halt to a stop as he directed it at shuichi ; causing an unwanted panic to rise up in the both of you, but mostly you.

"hey, you seem pretty nervous there. say, when was the last time you had any contact with drugs or alcohol?" you questioned in a condescending tone, a smug smile adorning your face and irking the already unstable man. looking back at it now, you should've kept your mouth shut. even so, shuichi's life was in danger, and if you had to risk your life for his ; well, you'd take any chance to do that.

the perp seemed to take the bait and aimed it back at your chest, lucky or unlucky for you two. "shut up!" an unreasonable relief washed over you as shuichi had been put out of danger.

shuichi looked over at you, communicating with his eyes as if he was pleading for you to stop and let him handle it instead. however, there seemed to be an itty bitty miscommunication. your ego seemed to betray you, as you started spewing out things you probably shouldn't have been saying ; all so you could impress the very nervous and quite frankly, unhappy detective.

"cocaine? heroin-?"

shuichi glared at you, mistakenly taking his eyes off the perp for once. "s/o, what are you doing?! i have this under control...!" he suddenly barked at you, breaking his composure as he had gotten a tidbit angered that you had been interfering with the negotiation.

"shut up! shut up, shut up, just shut the f-fuck up!" a gunshot rang out.

"watch out!" without thinking, you had shoved the frozen detective away from you, even if the gun had already been pointed at you ; you had no business risking his life.

jesus, you were probably the most idiotic man known to humankind.

next thing you know, you've been knocked onto the floor, head throbbing and wheezing from blood loss as shuichi has to determine whether he should chase after the perp or stay with you.

the decision had been more than easy ; he took barely one second to decide that your life was more important. dialing back-up in one hand, he crouched down to assist you with the other. taking in one shaky but deep inhale, shuichi nervously fiddled with his radio, shaky eyes glued to you. "officer down, i repeat officer down."

"the hell are you doing, saihara...!? he's going to get away!"

"i-i can't just leave! what if you- no, i-! just...just here," he handed to you a handkerchief he held in his shaky hands. "press it onto the wound, okay? please?" he wasn't going to take no for an answer, one more beat and he would've been doing it for you.

grunting, "shuichi, i'm happy you're worried about me but you're being hella stupid right now-" you cut yourself off, grunting at feeling the strain of talking.

"w- why did you do that? i had the situation under control...!" he sounded upset, that much was clear.

"he...he aimed the gun at you and i guess i panicked, i don't- i don't know, look- just go, alright? back-up's coming for me, and you know you can't let him get away." you could feel the adrenaline from getting shot wearing off, and with it, the pain getting worse. sweat formed on your brow ; it felt like the more you breathed, the more the searing pain worsened.

you knew deep down you didn't want him to go, that you were scared you could actually die within moments, yet you hated yourself for that feeling. it was extremely selfish. it wasn't fair. you could remember the way he looked at you.

"i'm not going, that's final. we're going to... we're going to wait for back-up together, okay?" it was weird to hear him use his asserting tone when talking to you, it was weird to hear him so confident with you too ; yet you couldn't ignore the strange sense of pride you held.

suddenly out of the blue, a wave of exhaustion hit you, causing your eyelids to flicker shut. you knew you weren't supposed to sleep ; especially not when you were bleeding out from your shoulder, but you told yourself, hey, one 10-minute nap couldn't hurt, right? back-up would come anyway.

before shuichi could even stop you, you're already out like a light, and causing sudden arrhythmia to shuichi's chest. "s/o! w-wake up!" with his words echoing throughout your dream-like state, your smile only seemed to widen ; he may have been screaming at you to not leave him — but his voice still kept that same, soothing tone to it. it was like a lullaby, to a man seconds away from death.

comparing his tone and reaction from the incident to now, it had certainly been different. you wondered what had changed... maybe he was mad? understatement of the year it seemed ; he was probably pissed the fuck off. you did ruin the negotiation after all, and for what?

"you don't seem very sad that i got shot ; i knew you were a pretty stoic guy but i didn't peg you as cold-hearted." you teased, to which shuichi held a neutral face, eyebrows creasing as he stared you dead in the eye. for a second you worried if he could tell you were joking.

"... i cried for days, s/o." his voice broke, and you could feel your heartbreak piece by piece as he frowned at you.

blinking in response, you didn't seem to believe him ; why would he cry over you? your head was probably just fucking with you. promptly ignoring the blood bag hanging beside you wondered if it had been the blood loss. "you- you what?"

it took you a few minutes to process what he had said, and for good reason. days? had you been asleep that long-? wait, he was crying? over you?

sometimes you forget he has emotions from how calm he is ; you swear you've only ever seen three sides of him ; anxious shuichi, serious shuichi, and calm shuichi. along with the occasional happy shuichi when you make him laugh with your shitty jokes, but that's a secret you keep between the two of you. or more like for yourself.

"i was- i mean, of course, i was devastated- you're sp- i mean- look, why did you- what made- that w- s/o, you- ah-" he stammered over his words frustratingly, hand rising to fiddle with his hair out of habit.

you watched him sympathetically. "hey, where'd mister assertive go?" you grinned, tone playful as you essayed soothing his anxiety. "...listen, it's okay, just take your time ; i'd prefer it if you did anyway, you're probably just gonna scold me, right?"

shuichi took strange comfort in your words, golden eyes staring straight at your hospital-gown covered chest as he tried calming himself down. "y-yeah...thanks." something was unsettling about how you seemed to be smiling in a situation where you nearly got yourself killed — even so, it was refreshing to see it.

he missed it. he missed you.

you had been sleeping for two days, so it would make sense that you were refreshed and well-rested enough to be back to your regular self.

whilst you had been peacefully sleeping and recovering in the nasty smelling hospital, shuichi had been in agony. those two whole days had been hell for him. crushing guilt and his anxiety attacked his head 24/7 ; even when he knew you probably weren't going to die in your sleep, 'probably' wasn't very assuring when you were shuichi saihara.

he would fret for hours and cry in the shower about whether it was his fault or not ; despite it being so obviously your fault, he couldn't help but wonder what he could've done differently. he shouldn't have been so weak, he'd tell himself. this was a normal thing that happened as a police officer, getting shot in the line of duty, it was normal. but it... it was completely different when he knew it was you who had been taking the bullet.

his eyes widened as he felt your hand clasp upon his. "don't look so guilty, shuichi. you're breaking my heart." you pouted, apologetic eyes staring at his kicked-puppy-like eyes. "sorry, i just- i know you said you...you said you panicked when the perp aimed the gun at me ; who, um, thankfully got captured by one of our back-up team." he could hear you sigh in relief, which frankly, irked him a little.

you were still worried about that? he, himself was a workaholic but not to the point where he would sigh in relief as there was a large bullet wound inside his shoulder.

"but uh, i don't...i don't think i understand why? i mean, he- he wasn't going to shoot, i had it under control—"

"i know you did, and i trust you but...i just couldn't take any chances, you know? i'm...honestly i don't really regret much." you smiled sheepishly, hands gently fiddling with his cold hand that rested on the very end of your hospital bed.

"i mean, i get to see you worried about me." you chuckled, "it's cute, i have to admit." you forgot all about your wound at this point.

his guilty expression didn't change a bit ; eyebrows only furrowing deeper down as he eyed you questionably. "you think it's...cute? you almost got yourself killed, s/o. you know you can't be that reckless. to get yourself nearly killed just because you didn't want to take the chance of me in danger...s/o, i was terrified. when you fell asleep, i thought my heart was collapsing — you shouldn't have done that for me—" his worries spilled out of his mouth like fluid, the words coming to mind easier, and quicker at the cause of your hands being a good distraction.

"saihara." you snapped him out of it, tugging his arm further towards you. "don't cry, okay? i'm okay. if it makes you feel better, i'll...try not to do that again. please, just..." you swiped your thumb at his face, flushing as he instinctually leaned into your hand.

shuichi sniffed in response, hands coming up to wipe his own face as soon as he realized he was, indeed crying. "...i'm sorry."

"i know i'm too reckless for my own good, but i just didn't want for you to get hurt. you're...you mean so much to me. more than you could ever know." you confessed, eyes averting as you tried to avoid his reaction.

"um, i don't know what i'm saying — maybe it's the painkillers? they put in the right blood type for me, righ-?" you took your hand away from his and to the back of your cold neck.

"i made sure they had the right one — but um, what did you mean by that? just earlier?" shuichi stared up at you, pouting as you only seemed to look away from his detecting stare.

you knew one look in your eyes would show everything you felt for him ; and you weren't sure if he even wanted to see that emotion. so you settled for a temporary solution.

"um, is- is that a bee outside? i like bees, though they are going instinct — haha, the human race is fucked-"

"s/o, why are you avoiding the question?" he dealt with many guilty perps, thus knowing when someone was guilty ; and that right now, had been you.

you grunted underneath his stare, sinking further down into your sheets as you sighed defeatedly. it's not like you could hide from a detective for long. "i- uh, i just meant like," your confidence seemed to deter ; and for a second shuichi almost felt bad. almost.

his job as a detective meant he wouldn't stop until he got answers ; and that applied to his daily life as well, his daily life that included so much of you.

damn him and his adorable crying. "i think i...since the gun thing, and i don't know if this will comfort you in anyway but this has been seriously e-eating at my brain and i finally know- i finally know what this feeling is. i feel kind of dumb for not knowing earlier ; i mean, was my career as a detective nothing?" you gazed at him from underneath the 'comfort' of your uncomfortable paper-thin sheets.

"getting off-track, i just meant that i-i think that i really really like you." your voice had been slightly muffled by the sheets, but shuichi heard you clearly nonetheless. he made sure he did.

"you- me? r- romantically?" he flushed bright red as you nodded in confirmation.

you hoped he was as embarrassed as you were because you felt like you would dissolve into the sheets from the pure humiliation if he wasn't. "youdon'thavetosayanything,ijustthoughti'dletyoukno-"

"n-no, that's not it! i- i like you too! i...haha, to be honest, i thought this would go differently." he chuckled, scratching his cheek awkwardly as he eyes your shoulder wound.

jerking up, you briefly ignored the searing pain in your shoulder as you leaned way too close to him for comfort, a look of pure devastation and worry on your face. "you already knew?"

he couldn't help but think your worried pout was nothing but adorable, unsuccessfully stifling a goofy smile. "no, i..." honestly he kind of did already know, but he never thought it was something possible ; thus clouding his judgment.

"i planned to confess, actually...i was planning to-to talk to you about it during one of our-"

you made an 'o' shape with your mouth, a thoughtful look in your eyes as you nodded understandingly. "-talks, of course."

huffing quietly, he sent you a worried look. "what, are they bad? communication is key, you know-" his informative, but light-hearted scolding had been cut off as you reached to tussle with his hair, erupting a hiccup out of him.

"they're not bad ; you're just...you're a real saint."

"a-ah, i wouldn't say that..." you laughed at his nervous reaction, retracting your hand to his dismay.

"that's what a saint would say." he pouted at your teasing tone, grabbing your arm gently with his hand as he kept in mind your disability.

you cut him off as he opened his mouth, seemingly about to defend himself. "don't worry too much about it ; i actually sometimes like our talks...though i spend most of my time staring at you as you talk, it's still pretty fun." oops.

"s-s/o..." he squeaked, looking at you pleadingly for a reason you hadn't been aware of yet.

"what? i didn't say anything wrong, did i?" blinking at him, you tilted your head.

"n-no, but- um." he wasn't sure how to tell you how much he wanted to kiss you right now. those talks proved to be nothing but useless as he couldn't find the words he desperately wanted to speak.

it was only then had you noticed he had leaned half his body over you, nearly climbing into the hospital bed with you. the sudden realization caused you to widen your eyes, as you awkwardly hovered your hands in the air. it was like your body had been telling you to touch him, cradle his head but you didn't know how, or where.

the awkwardness had caused a small, nervous chuckle to erupt from your throat ; prompting shuichi's worried glances. were you laughing at him?

you felt him shrink away, and out of panic, you let your heart act before your brain could. your hands cupped his face, a quiet clapping noise echoing throughout the white hospital room walls and only seeming to make everything more strange than it had been.

shuichi held a shocked expression on his face, as you had practically been melting from how much you were sweating. fuck, did i mess this up?

no words had been exchanged, both of you, too bewildered and too nervous to say or do anything — the situation grew so bizarre that it literally left them speechless. with both pairs of eyes glued onto the others, neither of you moved — no matter how sore shuichi's arms had been getting from holding himself up not to crush you, and how with each agonizing second, you weren't sure whether or not to tighten your grip on his jaw.

"a-are you going to kiss me? or just stand there?"

"i-i can do that? really?" shuichi watched you closely for confirmation ; and you swore you felt him lean in closer to you — not that you were complaining. in any way. whatsoever.

"um, y-yeah. i-i consent, ha— mmf-!" shuichi hadn't bothered to hide his eagerness, lips already pressing and moving against yours like it was instinct, like it was something he had been waiting for for years.

your fingers ultimately tightened around his jaw, and you made the move to bring him further down onto you — to which wasn't a very good choice.

"w-wah! s/o, w-wait a second!" he muffled through your lips, golden eyes revealing themselves as he lifted his eyelids in a panic as you started pulling him down to you. he was unreasonably afraid of accidentally putting you in more pain ; but the electrifying feeling you had felt from his lips on yours had had the same cause and feeling as 10 million painkillers — you felt like you were in cloud 9 with a million tiny shuichi angels swimming and flying around you.

you promptly ignored him, craving more as you used one of your arms to hug him close to you — the position probably looked like you were trying to strangle him, but your lips on his said otherwise.

you two probably spent 30 minutes making out in your assigned hospital bed, but hey, it's not like anyone was waiting.

...i mean, just ignore the nurse awkwardly standing at the doorway and you're fine.

⊱───── ❝ thank you for reading! ❞ ─────⊰

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sheerfreesia007 · 2 years

Text

Webhead Chronicles #11

pTitle: Webhead Chronicles #11

Fandom: The Amazing Spiderman

Pairing: Peter Parker x OFC!

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 2,2128

Warnings: Fluff, fighting

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell, @linkpk88, @weirdowithnobeardo, @athalien

Author Notes: I’m so soft for these two. I love the friends to lovers trope.

Gif Credit: @peterparkcr

Ev woke with a jolt as her head flopped backwards onto the back of the subway car seat. Looking around, bleary, she blinked her eyelashes a few times trying to clear the cloudiness from her eyes. She heard sniggering to her right and looked over to see an older man gently placing a bottle on Peter’s forehead.

Peter was sprawled out on the seat with his feet in her lap while his head was laying on top of his backpack. The man was bent over at the waist as he shushed his sniggering friends. Ev groaned low in her throat and scowled at the man and his group of friends.

“Hey leave ‘im alone.” she mumbled out, still sleepy from her nap.

“Oh hush little girl.” said one of the women that was with the group in a nasty tone as she curled her lip at Evalyn. Feeling annoyed at their nasty attitude Ev began to stand up from her seat. They were just like Flash just older and it bothered her greatly to see them playing a prank on a teenager who was sleeping. It wasn’t right and she wasn’t going to stay quiet just because they were older than her.

“I said leave him alone!” Ev snapped in a hiss and the two women glared daggers at her from their spot on the outer circle of the group.

“Honey, sit down and shut up.” snapped the other woman who was standing next to Peter’s spot on the bench seat.

“What are you guys, children? Playing pranks on teenagers? C’mon! Grow up!” snapped Ev as she now stood slightly in front of Peter’s long legs and closer to the grown man who had placed the bottle on his forehead.

Suddenly Peter sprang up from his spot on the bench knocking the bottle of beer towards the group making it smash on the ground as the group all jumped back. Ev was gently pushed back towards the subway car doors next to the seat as Peter managed to hang from the ceiling of the subway car? Ev stared at him with wide eyes as she watched Peter’s fingers stick to the ceiling as if he had sticky glue on them. Tilting her head to the side she watched as Peter surveyed the subway car quickly taking in everything. His eyes finally landed on her and he instantly relaxed and fell from the ceiling to land on his feet, which made Ev raise an eyebrow since Peter was prone to being clumsy.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked gently as he stepped over to her before there was a loud call from the main guy from the group.

“Hey! You got beer all over my girl!” he shouted at Peter making both Ev and Peter look over at him. Ev huffed angrily as she glared at the man heatedly. She grabbed onto Peter’s forearms and leaned towards the man.

“You shouldn’t have put the bottle on his head then! Actions have consequences asshole!” she snapped at him while still glaring at him.

“Hey shut your mouth! Get your girl under control!” yelled the man and Ev felt the anger flush through her body at his words.

“Get me under control?! Shut my mouth?! You’re a piece of sh-” Ev began to growl out before Peter sidestepped her and stood in front of her protectively. He then took a step forward and placed a hand on the woman who had beer dumped all over her shirt.

“Hey look man, I’m really sorry about that.” Peter said, trying to calm the whole situation as he shook his hand on the woman’s shoulder. Ev peeked around Peter’s body to see him staring surprised at his hand as he tried to pull it away from the woman’s shirt. She watched as the shirt stuck to his hand when he pulled away from her, tilting her head to the side her brain tried to process what was going on.

“What are you doing? Let go!” the man shouted and Ev watched as Peter tried to let go of the woman’s shirt.

“I’m trying man. I’m trying. Trust me.” Peter said hurriedly and Ev watched as the man grew angrier before stepping forward and pushing Peter away from the woman. Ev gasped as she watched Peter jerk backwards with the shirt still stuck to his hand. Her eyes darted over Peter’s hand which was relaxed in an open palm and still had the shirt stuck to it as if there was sticky glue on it. Ev stepped a little closer to get a better look of Peter’s hand but then noticed that Peter was trying to let go of the pole that he had grabbed onto when the man shoved him. Ev turned to watch as Peter stared at the pole almost in a daze as he tried to let go of it.

Just then Ev saw the man begin to charge Peter in anger to possibly retaliate against him. Ev gripped onto the railing on the seat in anticipation as she watched the man speed towards Peter. She thought for sure that he was going to plow into Peter but at the last moment Peter dodged him and the man flew onto the bench seat further down the subway car.

“I’m so sorry man!” Peter called out as he held a hand out in a gesture to show regret. Ev looked over at Peter in surprise and with wide eyes as he looked at her as well with shock written all over his face.

Just then the rest of the group began to charge at Peter from behind him. Ev gasped loudly as Peter quickly flung his legs upwards to stop the second guy from attacking him. While Peter was on the floor from the second guy another one approached him and tried to grab his legs but Peter kicked him back making him fall on the floor with a loud thud. Peter effortlessly jumped back to his feet and faced off with the last guy from the group. Ev gripped the railing tightly and Peter shook his head to let her know to stay in place. The guy looked at Peter and then down at his skateboard before looking back up, Ev’s heart plummeted in her chest and she shook her head at the man.

“C’mon man, not my board.” Peter groaned out lowly and Ev gasped once more as Peter held up just his forearm to stop the skateboard from hitting him. When it splintered and snapped in half from just hitting his forearm she sucked in a harsh breath in surprise. She didn’t even feel the pieces of the skateboard hitting her in the face and scratching her cheeks. That man was knocked to the ground with a well timed punch to the gut before another was up and trying to attack Peter once more.

Soon Peter was hanging upside down on the pole before snapping the pole from the floor and ceiling attachments and holding it in between his legs. Ev jerked back as the main guy from the group and the second guy approached Peter at the same time to try and ambush him. But just stood up and both guys were hit by the pole in between the legs making them bend at the waist in pain. Peter turned with the pole attached to his hand still and hit both guys in the head knocking them to the floor.

Peter looked around in shock with his hand raised to his mouth and Ev shook her head as she heard the subway conductor announce that Coney Island was the last and final stop. She whipped her head up to the speaker in confusion before looking at Peter who stared at her still shocked.

“C’mon grab your board and backpack we’re getting out of here.” Ev instructed him as the pole unstuck itself from his hand and fell to the floor with a loud clanging sound. Peter nodded his head and flung the ripped shirt to the lady cowering away from him before grabbing his backpack and broken skateboard.

The two of them quickly rushed out of the subway car and ran for the steps to get as far away from the group as possible. When they came up to the street Peter groaned loudly and Ev looked over at him curiously.

“What is it?” she asked him and he shook his head at her question.

“I didn’t mean to get us this far from home. Or to start a fight on the subway.” he said as he hung his head. Ev shrugged her shoulders then nudged him with her shoulder as she walked beside him with a soft smile on her face.

“Just means we get to spend more time together and you can walk me home.” she teased him and he scoffed at her softly as he looked over at her. Suddenly grabbed her cupped her face in between his two hands as his eyes darted over her face making the two of them stop on the sidewalk.

“You’re hurt.” he said softly as he gently brushed a thumb across her cheek making her wince slightly. “Oh geez Ev. I’m so sorry.” he husked out softly and Ev looked up at him with wide eyes. She felt the warmth of his hands along her face and she could feel her body starting to melt into his as she swayed closer to him. “Ev.” he said softly and she blinked her eyes rapidly for a moment, clearing the fog from her brain that came with his touch. Placing her hands over his she smiled softly up at him.

“I’m okay, I promise. You protected me and kept me away from them when they started to fight with you.” she said softly and Peter gazed deeply into her eyes for a quiet moment before nodding his head. “But we need to talk about how you were able to stick to the ceiling like sticky splat.” she said and Peter burst out in laughter at her words.

“Sticky splat?” he asked as he doubled over in laughter. “Seriously Ev?! Sticky splat??”

“What?! You want me to say the obvious then?! You stuck to the ceiling like a spider Pete!” she cried incredulously and Peter stared at her with a weird expression on his face.

“No Ev. C’mon it’s not like a spider!” he argued shaking his head vehemently and Ev nodded her head in response.

“Then how do you explain it?! Peter, your hand was stuck to that woman’s shirt!” she insisted as she began waving her arms about her body trying to make him understand the seriousness of the situation. Peter shook his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, already growing stubborn with her insistence.

“Ev I’m not some spider mutant. I don’t even know I got bit by one of the spiders at the lab. The robot arm was killing them.” Peter argued and Ev shook her head.

“Survival of the fittest Peter. Just because you saw some of the spiders being killed by the robot arm.” She began to reason out trying to explain to him.

“All of them.” he interjected and Ev huffed frustratedly at him before continuing to speak.

“Some of them, doesn’t mean that all of them were killed. Turn around then let me see the bite mark.” she insisted and Peter shook his head stubbornly as he kept his front to her not letting her get around him to see his bite mark. “Peter Parker!” she snapped angrily as her hands flew to her hips in aggravation making Peter chuckle softly at her image.

“I’m fine Ev. It was just sweat that got sticky. It’s no big deal.” he insisted as he leaned close to her, bending slightly at the waist so that he was face to face with her. He watched delightedly as she blinked rapidly at him in silence, he knew caught her off guard and she was now scrambling to remember where she had left off. “I promise if I wake up tomorrow with six more legs and encased in a cocoon you can take me to the hospital.” he said firmly and Ev scoffed at him.

“Spiders don’t make cocoons for themselves stupid.” she gripped out and Peter laughed as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“That’s what you focus on?! I said I could grow six more legs and you focus on the cocoon? Gotta get your priorities straight Ev. C’mon let’s get home, I’m pretty sure Aunt May and Uncle Ben are going to kill me.” he said as he continued to laugh at her while guiding her down the street back towards their home.

#my writing #the amazing spiderman #tasm peter parker x ofc!#tasm peter parker #marvel #Webhead chronicles

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mythicamagic · 3 years

Text

Unorthodox: a Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome is pleasantly surprised to receive a present from Sesshoumaru for White Day... until she glimpses the contents inside her gift box.

AN: Written for the Sesskag 2021 Big Bang event on tumblr! @chierafied

I was paired with @milomai-art and here’s their lovely artwork: https://milomai-art.tumblr.com/post/648766972634513408/unorthodox-mythicamagic-inuyasha-a-feudal

Rated K+

Words: 3,000

You can read it on Ao3, Dokuga or fanfiction.net.

Unorthodox

Valentine's day had come and gone, with a notable difference this year for Kagome compared with the last lonely three;

Her return to the Sengoku Jidai.

To celebrate reuniting with her beloved friends, she'd gone all out. Everyone received gifts, right down to Myoga and Jaken; no one had been excluded.

For all her efforts, however, she expected nothing in return. Though she'd explained the concept to the Inutachi, Sango and Miroku were much too busy looking after their children to keep track of dates, Shippo was often away at Kitsune school and Inuyasha had been absent as of late. Besides that, since their relationship had ended, the subject of Valentine's had become an awkward one. She'd had to stress the platonic intent behind her gift to him.

Therefore, Kagome had pretty much forgotten all about White Day by the time it rolled around.

Exiting Kaede's hut with a tub of water in her arms, intending to give the old miko's horse a good scrub down, she dug in her heels the second exquisite silks, armour and a fur pelt registered- having blinked into existence before her. Kagome gaped, swaying. Water sloshed, some spilling to their feet.

"Uh hi," looking up at grave, handsome features, she arched a brow. Sesshoumaru stared at her fervently. "Nice to see you, Sesshoumaru," adjusting her grip, Kagome sidestepped him and flashed a warm smile, used to his minimalistic approach to conversation by now. "Do you need something? Inuyasha isn't here. I think he's helping the next village over repair a-"

"I am not here for him."

Kagome noted his succinct tone, sounding more defensive than usual. Setting down the wooden tub carefully, she straightened, tilting her head. "Then what are you here for?"

"White Day."

"White... ah!" Kagome gasped, "that's right! How did you know about that?" she blinked, noticing he looked extra grumpy today. His jaw ticked, golden eyes narrow. Slowly, the miko brightened. "No way. Did you... get me something?" she breathed, strangely touched.

Of all people, Sesshoumaru had remembered? Was she dreaming?

A hand thrust out stiffly towards her, balancing a small box upon his palm.

Accepting it with thanks, heat touched her cheeks. Weird. She really shouldn't be indulging this- or feeling kind of happy. It didn't mean anything to be pleased, right? Was she even allowed to feel warm and fuzzy towards her ex's brother?

Opening the lid, Kagome tried to squash her excitement- peering down. Slowly, she reached in, retrieving a silky soft thing.

It appeared to be made of something long, silver and fine, the material woven into a pretty design. A bracelet of silk, if she could hazard a guess.

"Um, thank you," Kagome raised her gaze. "What's it made of, out of curiosity? It's very soft."

Sesshoumaru appeared pleased, preening a little. "Only the finest material."

"Really?" she stroked it. "I hope you didn't go to any trouble on my account."

He scoffed, midsummer gaze smiling slightly as his tone became haughty and prideful, "it was no trouble to use this one's own hair."

Kagome dropped the bracelet back into the box. "Whut?"

Lithe fingers combed indulgently into his fall of lustrous silver hair, "you need not be alarmed. The strands grew back quickly."

That isn't what's alarming me, Kagome silently screamed. Now that she was paying attention though, the pale bracelet really did resemble the demon lord's long flowing locks.

Her hand recoiled a little from the box. "W-well, um... thank you very much," Kagome said thinly. "It's a very thoughtful gift. Truly."

Sesshoumaru's keen, piercing eyes roved over her strained features, voice deepening. "If you do not wish to accept it-"

"N-no, I do! I'll wear it right now!" Kagome grabbed it madly, fiddling with the thing while repressing a shudder. She tried and failed to secure the clasp, stiffening when large hands closed over her hand.

The demon lord leaned forward- that same hair currently being secured around her wrist falling free from behind a pointed ear. Silver strands draped down like a gossamer curtain, tickling her flushed, sensitive skin.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head up, expression unreadable.

Shifting her wrist, Kagome observed the threads of hair wrapped around it. His bracelet felt odd, the concept totally foreign. However, she could feel how much the gesture meant to him. She didn't fear offending him because of his dark temper- more because she cared about his feelings and wanted to nurture any hint of a bond between them.

"Thank you," Kagome said. "No one else brought me anything today, so I'm...I'm grateful."

Even if it was the weirdest thing she'd ever received. A bracelet made of hair wasn't exactly traditional.

Straightening, Sesshoumaru's lips thinned as his eyes flickered with confusion.

Kagome blinked, wondering what else he'd envisioned her saying.

"Hn," inclining his head regally, he pivoted sharply and began stalking away quickly, giving a swift kill to the conversation.

---

Without a frame of reference for how long he desired her to wear it, Kagome tugged her sleeve down to hide the bracelet from curious eyes during the next few days. She tried to ignore the sensation of hair continually brushing her skin.

"I wonder if it means something important," Kagome examined it while sprawled out upon a grassy hill, taking a break from her miko duties Kaede had started dishing out ever since her return.

Sesshoumaru had seemed extremely serious while giving it to her. Then again, the gift could've meant nothing. Maybe his hair was just THAT valuable in the Daiyoukai's opinion. She snorted, twisting her wrist and watching silver threads catch on sunlight, making it shine white. "His ego is big enough. I'd believe it. Heh, maybe he'd also give me one of his eyelashes, or a fingernail or..."

Why was Sesshoumaru heading towards her?

Sitting up and fussing absentmindedly with her hair- removing a few stray leaves- Kagome felt heat flood her face.

Okay, no- she shook herself, putting a firm lid over the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. Too strange. Enough of that.

The Daiyoukai stopped a few feet away, expression detached. Kagome knew by now to ignore it in favour of looking into his eyes. They were intent and unblinking today, hinting at his seriousness.

"Hi," she said, patting a spot next to her. "It's rare for you to visit the village again during the same week. What's up?"

Sesshoumaru cocked his head to the side at her odd term. Kagome bit her lip, finding it endearing. Her attention strayed, noticing yet another box sitting innocently upon his hand.

She paled. Oh no.

Gracefully sweeping himself down onto one knee- he thrust the new box out towards her, giving Kagome a dizzying sense of Déjà vu.

I was joking about the fingernails. Please be something normal. Please.

Accepting it gingerly, blue eyes flicked up towards him. "White day is over, you know."

"This one is aware."

"So...why the new gift?"

Sesshoumaru pretended to be interested in the gentle bubbling stream not too far away. "Because it pleases me to give it to you."

He was so difficult to figure out. Not wanting to squash his newfound sense of generosity, Kagome carefully removed the lid.

The contents did not look promising.

Trying not to jump to conclusions, she reached in and removed the long necklace. A single solitary tooth hung from the chord.

"Ah," Kagome squinted. "Open your mouth a sec."

Sesshoumaru's lips parted wordlessly, mouth opening wider to reveal a gap where one of his sharp canines used to be.

"This...is yours?" she asked weakly.

Sesshoumaru closed his mouth and nodded primly. "It will serve you well, should you have need of it."

In what way would I ever have need of a tooth? a wrinkle marred her brow as she considered it, coming to a small realisation. "To make a sword from?"

"Hn."

Well, that explained a small piece of the puzzle. In a very 'Sesshoumaru' way- it almost seemed a little sweet, practical even.

However, this did not help assuage her naturally squeamish reaction while looking at the freshly plucked tooth.

"Thanks," she said lamely. "I-I'm sure it'll be very useful if I visit Totosai in the future."

Her answer didn't seem to be what he was looking for. Sesshoumaru's gaze flitted from her to the dangling fang. "Females... prefer jewels, make-up or clothing, I suppose."

Kagome scratched her cheek, "depends on the lady- but you really don't have to worry, Sesshoumaru," laying a hand over pale knuckles resting upon his knee, she gave a squeeze. "I'm touched you're being so thoughtful. There's no need to give me anything else though, I have more than enough."

His nostrils flared, jaw setting stubbornly. He drew himself up to stand, "you are too modest."

Feeling thoroughly discombobulated, Kagome could only watch as he pivoted with all the grace of a dainty dancer, stalking away with billowing sleeves.

---

For two weeks, Sesshoumaru continued visiting the village at random intervals. His flair for turning up at the most unexpected times made it difficult for Kagome to anticipate his visits. Sometimes he'd arrive bright and early, others- nearing nightfall. Occasionally he'd visit Rin, but their interactions seemed distracted. Rin would whisper fiercely to him while gesturing in Kagome's direction, but he'd ultimately leave without speaking a word to the miko.

It was odd, confusing. She'd used to think of Sesshoumaru as a fairly straightforward demon. As of late, he'd been downright unpredictable and... flakey. She kind of missed their previous easy interactions when she'd pick herbs and prattle on while he occasionally offered a word or two. His silence had felt comfortable rather than awkward.

I don't know how to get that back, Kagome thought sadly.

A chilly wind passed by, breeze rushing around her exposed neck. Adjusting her miko garb, she sneezed, shivering a little. Autumn would soon be on its way.

The heat of an intense stare sent a new chill down her spine. Kagome turned, sensing it- only to find Sesshoumaru gazing at her intently.

Was it her imagination, or did he seem absurdly pleased? As though struck by a revelation.

As was typical behaviour for him, the demon lord began walking away without a word.

---

Trudging back from training in the woods, Kagome shouldered her bow while walking around a thick tree- only to quickly stop, almost bumping straight into polished armour.

Sesshoumaru stood before her, holding another box. This time it was larger, more of a rectangular shape.

"M-more?" Kagome squeaked. Her heart thundered. It felt like so long since they'd last spoken.

Sesshoumaru inclined his head gravely, "hn."

Biting her lip and somewhat dreading what cast-off part of him could be inside this time, Kagome grasped the lid and removed it- only to slam it abruptly back down.

"What… what is that?" she asked thinly.

Sesshoumaru's lashes fell shut and slid open in an unruffled blink.

"My fur."

I thought as much.

Kagome removed the lid with trepidation once more, lifting out the lush, soft coat. Even while her hands sank into the cloud-like material, blue eyes remained wide with distress.

Sesshoumaru seemed to guess her line of thinking. "It is discarded fur that I have shed, not cleaved off. Do not worry."

"O-okay," she said thinly. It's still weird though. Too weird. Imagine if I'd made a coat of shed skin.

It was so odd that Kagome felt a line needed to be drawn, placing it back into the box and numbly accepting it from him. "Sesshoumaru… I have to put my foot down now. I appreciate your gifts but I can't accept any more."

He stiffened, the burning embers in his eyes freezing into glassy orbs.

Kagome rushed to explain, "it's very sweet of you, and I appreciate the thought. I'm just not, uh…sure they're suited for a human. Besides, you seem to be worrying about what to get me instead of talking to me. I'd rather we just spoke like old times instead of this awkwardness."

"I see," he said stiffly.

She took a step forward, eyes widening when he took one back and turned. "This one did not intend to give you things deemed inappropriate and unwelcome. Farewell."

"Wait-!"

Too late, Sesshoumaru blurred away from her outstretched hand.

Kagome grit her teeth, sighing and balancing the box on one hand. Damn it.

Slowly, Kagome lowered the box onto a tree stump and gingerly lifted the coat. It felt lush and divine, her hands disappearing within the sheer volume of fur. Sliding her arms into the sleeves and putting it on, Kagome wrapped it around herself, feeling like she were enclosed in a giant fluffy cloud. His static youki brushed her skin intimately, fanning out from the strands.

It was big. It was a little ridiculous. It was wonderful.

Kagome groaned, burying her face in her hands. Sure, the idea of him collecting his shed fur to sew into a coat was strange by human standards, but actually wearing the coat, she now understood his simplistic intent.

He'd just wanted her to be warm.

"You're such a weirdo," she grumbled, blushing and dipping her nose into the fur. It smelled like him; wild forests, with the hint of refined smoke from a pipe.

Maybe she was weird too.

---

He was absent for an entire month.

Sesshoumaru figured it would help ease the sting of rejection. The second he caught Kagome's fragrance, however, it was like an old wound had been ripped open again.

His lips thinned, firmly keeping all emotion locked tight behind a placid mask as he visited Rin.

Chatting with the girl allowed him to soothe his stung ego for a while, distracted by Rin's news about the village and her training. Occasionally she would mention the miko and his chest would tighten again. How pathetic of him.

Once his cup lay empty and Rin mentioned the need to leave in order to assist the older miko, Sesshoumaru took his leave.

Stepping foot outside Kaede's hut, however, he froze.

Kagome stiffened before him, swathed in furs- his furs- he dimly noted.

More than that, lithe fingers curled around the fang resting at her collarbone. The silver bracelet of his hair caught the light before disappearing beneath the length of her sleeve.

Kagome's cheeks heated, and she thrust out a box, letting it rest on her palm.

"I asked around," she muttered. "Inuyasha was clueless, and Shippo kept laughing whenever I tried to ask him what was going on. Luckily Myoga happened to stop by," blue eyes pinned him in place. "You could've told me what all the gifts meant instead of leaving me in the dark."

Sesshoumaru did not accept the box just yet. "I thought my intentions were achingly clear."

Embarrassingly so, for a proud demon.

"Not for humans!" she huffed, lowering her hands a little. "I was confused the whole time! How was I supposed to know that you were giving me a betrothal bracelet, or that the fang was for any half-demon children I might have when they need a sword? I kind of figured out the coat, but I didn't know it represented your intentions to provide for me."

Sesshoumaru stared. Oh. Perhaps he should've listened to Rin about courting the miko after all.

Cheeks scarlet, Kagome sighed, lifting the lid of her box off and removing something from inside.

"May I?"

Sesshoumaru nodded dazedly, golden eyes widening. His entire being thrummed, heart picking up speed.

Shifting closer, Kagome pushed some dark locks behind her ear, the length slightly shorter than usual. Sliding a black bracket around his striped wrist, Kagome swallowed. Her hair had been woven into a band much like his, though nowhere near as intricate.

The demon stared at it, fixated. Baser instincts purred.

Molten gold eyes slowly raised to pin her with a disarmingly reverent look. He spoke no words of poetry, no love or longing, but it was there, he hoped. Abundantly clear. Kagome seemed to recognise it for what it was now.

She smiled a little, hugging her arms and scuffing her foot. "Don't get the wrong idea; I'm not saying I'll jump into marriage with you, but it turns out I'm kind of interested in dating you. Really... interested," Kagome forced out, obviously embarrassed but soldiering on. "If it's okay, we could...do that," she finished lamely.

Sesshoumaru took a step forward, invading her personal space. She blushed exactly the way he'd hoped she would, babbling. "So the uh- think of the bracelet as a dating bracelet! Maybe down the line it could...it could become an engagement thing," she murmured, voice dimming in the wake of his proximity.

"Hn," honeyed eyes smiled, careful claws unfurling to find her chin. "That would be pleasing," he uttered in a faint rumble, tipping his head down. "I accept."

Satisfaction rolled through him fiercely as she tilted her head just so- lips meeting and brushing feather-light against his. Emboldened, Kagome's hands found the collar of his hankimono just as he took her by the waist as though entering a dance, tightening.

Sesshoumaru let his eyes flutter shut, inhaling sharply through his nose. He could smell her so bright and clear—the sweetness of tangerines, faint, exotic soaps—and her mouth so warm. Kagome kissed him, firmer, hand finding his hair- fingers curling. His breath began to roughen the longer their kisses went on. His heart chanted the truth of it all- 'yours.'

If the foolish woman wanted him, he'd already given himself to her. The ticklish brush of her hair claiming his wrist made him smirk against her mouth, glimpsing his own band of white around hers and revelling in a plume of possessive pride.

Perhaps it was unorthodox by her standards, but they were not exactly normal themselves. And so, Sesshoumaru drowned himself in the curious, raw newness of the strange miko, surrendering to all the oddities that would likely follow during their strange courtship.

End

#sesskag #sesshomaru x kagome #sesskag big bang 2021 #inuyasha #sesskag fanfiction

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alittlextrathatway · 4 years

Note

Penelope/Colin: “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

YAY SOMETHING BESIDES BRETTSEY. (Not that I don’t love them.) I’ve never written Polin before! I’m excited to play! 🙌🏻 Thank you!

How about a modern AU for this one? Just cause.

******

It all started because of the pandemic.

He’d been perfectly happy traveling. It’s not like he had anything else to occupy his time. He wasn’t particularly talented and he didn’t have any hobbies or interests. Aside from eating but he doubted his mother would approve of him becoming one of those professional hot dog eaters and he didn’t care enough for the piddly portions of fine dining to become a food critic.

The only thing that truly distracts him from his lack of drive or ambition is traveling — learning about the world and it’s many cultures.

He has journal after journal full of his discoveries and experiences. Travel is really his only love.

Which is why he’d stopped and started his studies so many times. He took a year between high school and college to backpack through Europe. Then another year after freshman year to “study abroad”, not that he actually studied. Which is why his mother forced him to come back and finish his third year stateside. After that, he’d set off traveling again. Every year he found another excuse not to come home for any longer than a month or two, allowing him to put off his final year.

It’s not as if he’s getting a degree in anything useful. He’s an English major. And it’s not as if his career isn’t already decided for him. Upon graduation he’ll be given an office at Bridgerton Family Publishing. Doing what? Well, no one knows. Not even him.

So, what’s the rush?

He’d still be gone abroad right now if not for COVID forcing him to return home. God, he hates 2020. What a waste of a year. He came home too late for the spring 2020 term so he’s spent the last several months going absolutely crazy.

He’s a man of the world who is not being allowed to go out and see it. He can’t imagine anything more cruel.

Actually, no, he takes that back. There’s one thing:

Using the time he’s forced to stay in Mayfair to discover he’s completely and stupidly in love with his little sister’s best friend.

The friend who overheard him, last time he was home for any considerable length of time, declaring to his brothers that he would never be interested in her.

Because, of course, Colin Bridgerton is a colossal jackass who doesn’t know a good thing when it’s been staring him in the face his entire life.

There’s laughter coming from the direction of the foyer. Very distinctive laughing. One high and tinkling like a pretty little bell and the other deeper and hoarser. The alto to the other’s soprano. The alto in this case is his younger sister, Eloise, and the soprano is Penelope.

The woman he should have noticed long before now.

He gets up from where he’s lounging on the sofa, mournfully watching the Travel Channel, and takes his plate full of sandwiches with him.

He finds them giggling and applying lipstick in the mirror by the front door. They look dressed to go out. Eloise in her slick tailored pant suit and intricately adorned lace top, in monochromatic lavender. And Penelope in…

Holy shit, what is that?

Apparently, it’s the instrument of his imminent death if the erratic beating of his heart is any indication. He’s going to have some sort of attack and go into cardiac arrest right here in the foyer of his childhood home.

It’s a tight forest green dress that has an off the shoulder neckline. It hugs her curves so perfectly that he thinks someone must have sewn it onto her. It shows the perfect amount of skin along her neck and shoulders, giving just a tiny glimpse of cleavage.

And she’s had a haircut since she was here yesterday. Her ginger locks now rest against her cheeks in a wavy stylish bob. She was beautiful before. He was never blind to that as some other people around Pen have proven to be, but now...

She’s absolutely stunning.

So stunning that other people will surely see what he sees. And he’s grateful for that, truly. She deserves to be seen as she is — brilliant and beautiful — but that means he’s about to have competition while trying to win her over. And he is not grateful for that.

He’s been trying to be more forward with her when they’re alone but that doesn’t happen often and he’s not sure Penelope takes him very seriously. (No one does.) She seems to always be in disbelief when he flirts with her.

“Where are you two off to?” He asks, leaning against the wall opposite the mirror.

“Double date,” Eloise says, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “Pen arranged it. She met someone extremely gorgeous at the library today.”

Penelope blushes and grins demurely. “It’s the magic of a fresh cut,” she says motioning to her new hair. “He was there with his friend and we were all scrambling for resources for our bibliographies together and he asked if I wanted to get dinner and I asked if Eloise could come. No big deal.”

“It doesn’t look as if it’s not a big deal,” Colin observes, his gaze sweeping over Penelope from head to toe.

“His father owns that new super exclusive restaurant Kate’s been begging Anthony to take her too. You know, La Table Gourmande?” Eloise explains.

“The one that told Anthony the next available reservation was in two months? That restaurant?” Colin asks, trying not to scowl.

Really, there was no need for this guy to show off. He seems a bit full of himself.

“That’s the one,” Penelope replies with a nod. “He says he can get us the Chef’s table tonight. I’ve never done anything like that before. It sounds exciting. Might be the closest I ever get to authentic French cuisine. For a while anyway.”

Okay, so now he feels like a heel for wanting to keep her from going out. He knows he’s lucky his family is so well off. It allows him to travel. Penelope’s family, while not destitute, has spent most of their surplus funds putting three daughters, soon to be a fourth, through school. In fact, if not for a distant rich aunt who died they wouldn’t even have been able to afford that.

Any money Penelope used to travel would have to be her own, and he isn’t sure how much of that she has.

“Pen,” Eloise calls, interrupting Colin’s thoughts. “Have you seen my clutch? Did I bring it down?”

“I don’t see it anywhere,” Penelope says with a shake of her head. “Did you leave it on your dresser?”

Eloise groans in irritation, turning toward the main staircase of their massive house. “I guess I did. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, they’re alone. Colin clears his throat and sets the plate of sandwiches he’d been snacking on down on the hall table. He crosses the space until he’s standing mere inches away from her.

“Don’t go out tonight. I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere better,” Colin suggests.

“Better?” Penelope asks skeptically.

He nods. “I have a friend who opened a restaurant here that I met while I was in Nice. It’s smaller than that La Table Gourmand monstrosity and not quite considered fine dining but it’s real. It’s better. It’ll be closer to actually being in France than anything in that obnoxious place.”

“I don’t see why I can’t go with Marcus tonight and then you some other time,” she tells him, lifting one perfect brow and pursing her lips.

“This guy sounds like a prick,” Colin says with a scoff. “Bragging about his father’s connections on the first date? That’s not a good sign, Pen. Trust me, I know these things. I’m a guy.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, a small knowing grin on her lips. “But I think I should decide that for myself. Don’t you?”

That grin…

She knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

She’s being difficult on purpose.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave,” she challenges him, continuing to grin smugly.

Well, if that’s the game she wants to play then so be it.

“Why waste a night figuring out what I already know when you could just let me take you out instead for what, we both know, would be a better time?” Colin asks, caressing the length of Penelope’s arm with a light tender touch.

She sucks in a breath at the contact, but doesn’t show any weakness in her expression. “Yes, but going out with Marcus would be a date that might actually lead to something. What would be the purpose of ditching a real date for you instead?”

“Oh, you want it to lead to something?” He asks, a smirk growing on his face as he backs her up toward the wall.

“Y—yes,” she stammers, her grin slipping as nerves shine in her eyes.

Her back hits the wall and he brings one hand to her cheek, cupping her face and trailing his thumb along her cheekbone.

He leans down, nearly closing the distance between them but stops just short of kissing her. “Come out with me, Pen, and you can choose where it leads. I’ll give you whatever future I have, even if I have no idea what it is. You set the terms, you call the shots.”

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush but she instinctively leans into his hand. Call him a cocky bastard, but that’s the moment he knows he’s won. The moment he knows she’ll choose him.

“I set the terms?” She asks, biting her bottom lip while she stares at his.

He nods, waiting for the moment she leans up and kisses him.

“Well, then you know what I think?” She asks, rhetorically while she rests a hand on his chest.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

She smiles wickedly and pushes him away by one step. “I think you could do with some healthy competition.”

She sidesteps him and saunters off to the front door, leaving him gaping at her like a fool.

Like a besotted, astonished, completely smitten fool.

Eloise reappears, patting Colin’s shoulder as she follows after Penelope. “Tell mom we’ll be back late.”

They leave, the door shuts, and all he can think is…

Well played, Penelope Featherington.

But the Bridgertons are famously competitive and this game is only just beginning. He’ll win her over yet.

Wait and see.

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin #fanfiction #my fic #angellwings writes #fanfiction prompt game #ask prompt #long post #SORRY THIS IS LONG FOR A TUMBLR PROMPT 😬#new ship for me so be gentle 🙏🏻

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Damsels, Chapter Twelve: You Deserve to Enjoy Your Body

By SisterSpooky1013 / Rated E

Read previous chapters here / Tagging @today-in-fic

He follows her up the stairwell that leads to her apartment. The complex has seen better days, but when she unlocks the front door he’s surprised to see that the inside is relatively nice. It’s small but tidy, which is no surprise for any place Scully inhabits, and the decor is decidedly young.

“I’m going to take a quick shower, make yourself at home,” she says, then disappears into the bathroom.

He looks around and has an odd feeling that he’s invading someone’s space. There are little trinkets on the shelves, magazines on the table, a stack of bills on the counter, but none of it is Scully. He sits down on the couch but it’s impossibly narrow and low to the ground, as though it were designed for a child. Or a child-sized woman, he supposes. The only other seating options are the table or the bed. The kind of conversation he wants to have with Scully shouldn’t take place at a dinner table, so he sits on the end of her bed, listening to the running shower. He wants to rummage through the drawers, to see the private details of her fabricated life, but he doesn’t. When the water stops running, his heart starts to race.

She steps out of the shower, wiping steam off the mirror with her forearm. Desi has gone down the drain and Scully looks back at her. She frowns, feeling a sense of loss. She’s going to go back out there as Scully, and Scully is going to sidestep her way right out of having an actual conversation with Mulder, just like she always does. Tears prick at her eyes, and she remembers how it felt to be Desi, to be free. She wants to keep that part of her, but she doesn’t know how.

Just ask yourself, ‘what would Desi do?’ and then do that.

Magenta’s words echo in her head. She’s not going to let Desi go just yet.

She suddenly realizes that she hasn’t brought a change of clothes into the bathroom with her, and because it’s a studio apartment, Mulder will be just outside the door. She puts on the short black bathrobe that’s hanging on the back of the door and it hits her thighs just below her ass. She needs to at least have underwear on beneath this; it’s too revealing. Scully would go out, grab a change of clothes, and then come back in here to put them on. But what would Desi do?

She opens the door and is surprised to see Mulder sitting on the bed. His head snaps over to her and a grin blossoms on his face.

“What?” she asks self-consciously.

He shakes his head, but the smile stays. “It’s just good to see you.”

She gives him the eyebrow. “I’ve been gone for ten minutes, Mulder,” she replies dryly.

“Right, um, it’s good to see Scully is what I meant to say. You. Really you.”

Is this really her? She doesn’t want it to be. She walks over to her dresser and opens the top drawer, plucking out a pair of red panties. Her back to him, she steps into them and pulls them up under the robe. He doesn’t make a sound, but she can feel his reaction.

Staying casual so as not to betray her pounding heart, she walks over and turns on the lamp beside the bed, then flicks off the overhead light and lays down. He turns to look at her from his spot at the foot, the amber light casting him in a warm glow.

“Your couch is tiny; for a second there I thought I had fallen into Gulliver’s Travels,” he says by way of explanation.

She has the thought that it had sat her and Angel just fine, but she doesn’t tell him that. She shifts to get more comfortable and winces at her sore ribs.

“He get you pretty good?” Mulder asks, crawling up to lie on his side next to her.

Scully would tell him, but Desi would show him. Pulling her robe open beneath her breasts, she exposes the developing bruise on her belly, just below and to the left of her sternum. Mulder sucks in a little breath that she assumes is in response to how bad it looks, but when she looks at his face his eyes are trained much lower, maybe on her scar. It seems as though he’ll never be able to stop blaming himself for that.

“No broken ribs or any internal injury, thankfully,” she says, watching him look at her. “I rolled away right as he kicked me, so it wasn’t as much impact as he was shooting for.”

“How long have you had that?” he asks, and her eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Um...a few hours?” she offers.

“No, this,” he replies, reaching out and touching her belly ring with an index finger. She blushes.

“Um, a couple years or so. I got it after my cancer went into remission.”

“Why?” he asks, all curiosity, no judgement. He’s still fingering the ring gently and she stifles a shiver.

“I guess...I guess I wanted to decide what happened to my body for once,” she answers, and he looks at her face with some mix of pain and admiration.

“This assignment,” he says with a regretful voice, “it took that away from you again.” His hand has come to rest on her belly, his palm covering the gold hoop.

She shakes her head gently. “In some ways yes, but in other ways it was actually...kind of empowering.”

They look at each other for a beat.

“How many times did you come to see me, Mulder?”

He averts his eyes sheepishly. “Too many,” he says. “I’m sorry.” It’s clear that he counts himself among those who violated her autonomy.

“Why?” she inquires further. “Why did you come?” Her tone is all curiosity, no judgement.

He meets her eye again. “Do you want to hear the lie I told myself, or the truth?” he asks, and she knows he’ll be honest if she asks him to.

“Tell me the lie first.”

“I knew you didn’t have your weapon, because I went to your apartment and checked your gun safe. So I needed to be there to protect you, in case something happened.” He says it flatly. He’s not even trying to convince himself of that anymore.

“And what’s the truth?” She knows her voice is on the verge of trembling.

His thumb is now gently stroking the flesh of her belly, his fingers mere inches from the hem of her panties. Now seems like a good time for honesty.

“At first, I just needed to know where you were. I couldn’t stand the idea of not knowing. And then once I found you, I just…” he stops and swallows, letting his eyes drift down, skirting over her chest to where his hand lies.

“What?” she encourages him, needing to know. Needing to hear it.

He turns his head abruptly, facing her again. “You looked so fucking good up there, Scully.” His pupils are huge and his breathing is quickening.

She smiles demurely. “Yeah?”

He huffs a big breath. “Yeah.”

She screws up her mouth, embarrassed by the compliment. “Thanks,” she finally says, and then they are quiet.

His hand still rests on her stomach, and he looks around the room, rather than stare at her awkwardly. She can hear the clock ticking in the living room and a horn honking somewhere nearby. This is the point where she will say how late it is, how tired she is, how early they will have to be up in the morning to continue the investigation. This is the point where she pulls open the escape catch and slips through.

What would Desi do?

She reaches up to his face, slipping her cool palms onto his stubbled cheeks. He turns to look at her, and she blinks slowly, letting her lips fall open slightly. She remembers the VIP room, and how desperate he’d been to touch her.

You deserve to enjoy your body, Angel had told her. She wants it to be true.

She pulls gently, bringing him to her. He closes the distance between them slowly, pressing his lips to hers. This is not a searing kiss, not frantic or desperate or unbridled. This is her and this is Mulder, and this is real. His kiss is tender and sweet, and he sighs deeply against her mouth with a little hum. Relief, release, finally finally finally.

She slides her tongue along his bottom lip and his body jerks a little in response, electrified and activated. A swell of confidence courses through her. Bringing one hand down from his face, she pushes the top of her robe open to reveal her bare chest, her nipples already tight with anticipation. His hand snakes up her ribcage, fluttering over the bruise and coming to rest at the spot where her underwire lies each day they work together in the office. Where sweat collects when the air conditioning in their rental car is out. Where her body becomes Her Body, and they are crossing this boundary together. Even though they already crossed it, obliterated it, when he took her into that VIP room. This feels more significant. This is real. This is them.

He trails kisses along her jaw and down the side of her neck, slow and delicious. His tongue dances across her clavicle and his lips brush the skin of her chest. When he takes her nipple in his mouth, she feels it so deeply, in a place she’d forgotten existed. A place that she’d so rarely let herself go. The rough of his tongue drags across the sensitive bud and she arches into him, letting her head fall back and her eyes close.

You deserve to enjoy your body.

His mouth is back on her neck and he kisses his way up to her ear. “You are so beautiful,” he whispers huskily, and she feels a surge of arousal dampening her panties.

He gently covers her bruise with his hand, kissing her lips whisper soft, so soft it makes her ache. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and at first she thinks he means emotionally.

“You won’t, Mulder.” It would have been the same answer either way.

She laps at his mouth and he reciprocates, deepening the kiss. As with all things, he’s exploratory; tasting each corner of her mouth, changing speed and pressure, discovering what she likes. Their slow, liquid kisses are the type she hasn’t experienced since she was a teenager and kissing was all that was permissible. She’d forgotten how erotic kissing could be. But she definitely wants to do more than just kiss.

“You can touch me,” she says. Even though he already is, already has. It’s as close to a request as she can manage.

“Do you want me to touch you?” he returns, and she remembers the way his hands had flexed and his body arched, seeking contact with her.

“Yes,” she breathes, “please.”

A low moan rumbles in his chest and his hand leaves her bruise, brushing over the skin of her belly as he continues to kiss her, the featherlight touch tickling her and making her jump.

“Sorry,” he says, and she can feel his smile against her mouth.

He plays at the hem of her panties, tracing the border across her stomach, the edge at her leg until it disappears under her ass. He follows it the other direction up and over the front of her leg until it takes him between her thighs. She moves one leg aside, resting it against him, and he continues to trace the trail along the seam of her thigh and vulva, so close she’s sure he can feel the heat coming off her. Maybe even feel how wet she is. He lifts his finger and places it low, on top of her panties near her opening, and drags it up over her cotton-covered slit. When he bumps up over her clit, she makes a little sound. He does it again.

“Can I…” he grumbles into her ear, “...I want to taste you. Please.”

A throb. Whatever she had previously thought to be the sexiest sound in the world is obsolete. Fox Mulder begging to eat her pussy is it, hands down, no debate. She wants to hear him say it again.

“You want to?” she asks rhetorically, baiting him. Her breath is ragged. If she somehow talks him out of this by accident she will die.

“So bad,” he drags his teeth over her earlobe. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fantasized about it.”

A throb. She might come just from talking about it. “Okay,” she says, as though acquiescing.

He moves to hover over her, kissing her several more times as though he can hardly tear himself away from one area to kiss another. If only he had a second set of lips to kiss her with. He makes brief stops at her breasts and belly along his journey, sucking the gold hoop between his lips, which produces an oddly pleasurable sensation. When he’s on his knees between her thighs, he hooks his fingers into the fabric at her hips and tugs, peeling them slowly down her legs. She lifts one leg and crosses it over his body so that he can pull her panties free and toss them on the floor. When that last scrap of fabric is gone, he gently pulls her leg back over and his eyes come to rest on the one part of her body he has not yet seen. She watches him intently, the mesmerized look in his eye as he commits her pink, swollen vulva to memory. He’s looking between her legs as though the answers he’s always been searching for are right here, and he can’t believe he’s only finding them now. He licks his lips.

When he lowers his body, laying on his belly and placing his palms on the outsides of her thighs, she feels the anticipation throbbing so hard she wonders if he can actually see how much she wants him. He dips his head and she is trembling, desperate, now now now.

The sweet slip of his tongue through her folds simultaneously ignites and extinguishes her. Release on top of heightened desire. Scratching the itch while tickling forth a new one. He is tentative, trying different levels of pressure and length of strokes, licking her long from bow to stern then short just across her clit. Every single point of contact is an entire fireworks show in a millisecond, one on top of the other, and she doesn’t even realize at first that she is crying out. Moaning and panting, making so much more noise than she ever would have permitted herself to make in the past. He slips a finger inside and she feels the beginnings of an orgasm begin to take shape. He laps her in short strokes, flicking up and over her clit over and over, and every synapse in her brain is firing. He slips a second finger in and she’s there, right on the edge, ready to fall over.

“I’m gonna come,” she whines, and he groans, keeping pace and pressure, not changing a single thing.

It’s slow, so slow the way it overtakes her. Her toes curl as it creeps up her legs, wrapping around her hips and pulling her under. She reaches the crest and hangs there, clamped tight around him at the peak of pleasure for so deliciously long. Then the waves hit her, pulsing and pushing and expanding and contracting, and he keeps going. It’s so good, so fucking good that she thinks she might cry, or maybe she already is, she doesn’t know. She’s still going, still pulsing around his fingers, but now that the most intense point has passed she wants him close, she wants more.

“Mulder,” she says with a thick, dry-mouthed voice, “come here.”

He crawls up over her body, still fully clothed, and she pushes his shirt up quickly, tossing it aside before her hands go to the fly of his jeans. She can see a question pass over his eyes, a worry that it’s too much too fast. Not for him, but for her.

“I want you,” she assures him, and he helps her push his jeans and boxers off, discarding her robe when he briefly stands. Then they are both fully nude, his stiff cock nestled between her thighs.

“Please,” she begs, because she means NOW she wants him now, right now, while she’s still riding the coattails of her orgasm.

He grips his cock and slides it over her, collecting her wetness, and then slowly pushes inside. He’s perfect, big enough but not too big for her petite frame, and she hooks her legs around his buttocks, pulling him deeper.

“Fuck,” he moans, but takes the cue and begins long, firm strokes.

The new sensation of the head of his cock sliding against her insides sets off another series of little waves of pleasure and she’s not sure if she’s still coming or coming again, but it’s so damn good she doesn’t care.

“You feel so good,” she moans against his neck, and he can feel him stiffen and grow even harder in response.

“Oh my god, Scully, oh my god.” He can’t find more eloquent words than that, but she doesn’t need them. She knows.

He kisses her while he slides in and out, groaning and growing more frantic. He’s close.

“Fuck, should I...pull out or something?” he asks breathlessly, a bit late in the game but she can appreciate that he thought of it at all. She remembers the box of condoms in the bathroom, but this is Mulder. She knows he hasn’t been with anyone else, and she can’t get pregnant anyway.

“Come inside me,” she commands, and that does it. His eyes clamp shut and his breath catches. He continues thrusting into her in stony silence, a living statue until he falls apart.

Words tumble from his lips as he pours himself inside her, a stream of consciousness he isn’t even aware of while dopamine is flooding every cell of his body. “Oh my fucking god, Scully, oh my fucking god, I love you so much.” She watches his face raptly, marveling at the blissful way his eyebrows stitch and his mouth hangs as he lets go, lets himself feel good for once. He collapses, falling to the side and taking her with him so he can remain inside her, nuzzling her neck as he rides out the final dredges of pleasure.

She traces her fingers over the sweat-dampened skin of his back, feeling whatever the opposite of regret would be. She’s never been so sure that a decision she’s made was the right one as she is now. He sighs deeply and then tips his head up to look at her, a sated smile on his lips that she returns.

“Hi,” she says in her very own voice, and he gives her a squeeze at the familiar greeting.

“Hey,” he replies, and her heart swells with affection that she cannot rightfully ignore.

“I love you too,” she says, and a flash of surprise disappears from his expression as quickly as it arrived. Maybe he doesn’t realize he said it, but he knows he feels it.

“Does that mean you’re not gonna kick me out?” he asks, and she can’t be mad that he’s ruining the moment with humor. He wouldn’t be Mulder if he didn’t.

“Stay,” she replies, and reaches up to switch off the lamp. They fall asleep just like that, his sticky cum on the insides of her thighs something she’s not ready to let go of just yet.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #case file #case fic

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need-a-fugue · 3 years

Text

Trustworthy (Chapter One)

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years teaming up with Santiago Garcia on every mission you had a hand in coordinating... and the past several months plotting with him to take down the biggest bad to hit your radar. But even all your time at the DEA and all your experience in the field couldn’t have prepared you for this.

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader (slowburn)

Warnings: Character death, many naughty words, and soooo much angst

A/N: It would seem that my newfound Pedro Pascal obsession isn’t going to let up any time soon, so I decided to just dive headfirst into some Frankie-heavy Triple Frontier fic. It doesn’t help that @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo planted a seed (quite a while ago) by asking for a story where reader breaks down on that fateful mission only to be comforted by our favorite Fish. I um... may have taken that a little far and now there’s this whole multi-chapter thing happening...

Here’s the thing… you’ve been in shit before. You’ve been shot at, even took a bullet yourself not too long ago. You’ve seen people die – some bad, some good, some deserving, some not. You held your own partner in your arms, desperately trying to stanch the flow of blood from his shorn neck before finally letting him go after he expelled one final, wet breath. You’ve killed people – a sicario outside of Bogota, two – possibly three – gang members in a shootout in Albuquerque, some dumb kid who’d been given a little bit of cash to stand guard outside a lab in Juarez.

You’ve seen tragedy, felt it, lived it, dreamed about it on an endless loop, even in your waking hours. You’ve caused it – or so you’d been told by the weeping mother of the boy in Mexico. You’ve denied it, denied that what had happened was actually tragic at all. Denied it to survive.

But you can’t deny what you’re in right now, the tragedy of having a plan go to shit in too many ways to count. The tragedy of nearly succumbing to your absolute worst fear in the world and going down in a sputtering damn helicopter. The tragedy of more lives being taken, even those of fucking Lorea and his men causing a reluctant burn at the back of your throat. Because you can’t stop seeing his children arriving home to find their worst nightmare laid out in blood and smoke, flames licking round all they’ve ever known and loved.

Children. Tom has children too. Had. Tom, who’s now being carried down the side of a mountain in a makeshift body bag, haphazardly descending with his men by his side… just ahead of you, just in your line of sight. Still leading the way, even in death.

Maybe that’s why this feels so different. This particular tragedy. Because you’re still in it. You can’t walk away and deny, shower the telling grime from your skin, bury the reality of death and failure and fear beneath a six pack of beer and a shitty TV dinner alone in your dark apartment.

And, oh, your apartment… or any apartment really, as you’re not exactly likely to return to your post in Colombia after all this. To go anywhere right now with heat and running water… and a bed. Your mind reels just thinking about it.

Maybe that’s it. Maybe it’s just because you haven’t slept in days… many days. Haven’t eaten much either, each and every MRE and stale protein bar sitting heavy in your throat, choking, suffocating, blocking your breaths and words alike.

“You gotta eat,” Frankie had said to you just this morning, whispered in your ear as you carefully picked your way over and around the sharp, loose rocks in your path. “We gotta keep moving,” he muttered, the deep hum of his voice sounding less like the balm you’d come to know and more like just another resonance caught up in the icy, bitter wind. He had pressed a bar to your palm, his hand warm despite the surrounding cold, and a forced lightness filled his tone as he declared, “Need your strength or we won’t make it to the coast.”

You hadn’t even looked up to meet his gaze, instead continuing forward, glare directed down at the treacherous ground beneath your feet. “I don't really see that happening anyway,” you said as you shoved the bar deep into your pocket.

His stride halted then, leaving him standing tall and motionless as you swept idly past. But his pause was enough to make you falter, to make you turn and glance back up at him. You hadn’t even realized what you said – not really, not fully – until you took in the look on his face. That was enough – the sadness, the grief, the guilt that clouded his eyes and pinched his lips – to make you retrieve the bar from your pocket and choke down the whole damn thing in two monstrous bites.

Maybe it’s that. That look Frankie had given you just as the sun began to rise. The same look that sits on the faces of the other men even now, hangs heavily on them as they soldier on, carrying not only the load of money, but the body of their friend.

Maybe it’s being here with them as they move with purpose and the kind of fluidity that comes from too many years of practice. Practice at navigating dangerous situations. Practice at steering away from the fear and pain, sorrow and guilt that stare them right in the face, all to ensure they might survive the day.

Maybe it’s watching them move through that horrid fog that – you know – anyone else would so easily get lost in. All while reluctantly admitting, if only to yourself, that it’s the same fog you’ve been unable to effectively cut through for days.

Maybe that’s what has you feeling like you’re walking a tightrope balanced precariously between an understandable sort of disappointment and dread… and a overwhelming, blinding despair. Maybe this feels different because it isn’t just yourself you’d need escape to gain distance from this tragedy. It’s all of them as well. And you can’t very well escape the very men you need to help you through.

They climb the mountainside, traversing rocks and heaps of remaining snow that never fail to send you slipping and careening. They catch you as you slide, helping you along as they hoist bag after bag – your own contribution of carrying just your pack and one duffel seeming paltry in comparison – up and then down the stony inclines. They hand you off with care, always keeping you close, making sure that if one of them moves ahead, another is still left by your side. They carry you almost as much as they carry the money. As much as they carry Tom.

Tom. You’d only known him a handful of days… weeks? How long ago was it that you followed Santiago back to the States to meet his reinforcements? At this point, you no longer have a clue when this whole fucking mess began. A lifetime ago at least. It seems as though you’ve known these men for an entire lifetime on top of that.

Tom. Well, he’s arguably the one you got to know least. And not just because he’s been dead for… however long it’s been now. No. He was just… quiet. Reserved. Distrustful, truth be told. But, hell, you could hardly blame him for that. After all, he was considered the leader of these men. The one tasked – above all others – with getting them in and out safely. The one who would wear the most blood on his hands should any of them fall.

And from the loyalty the others showed – and the stories they shared in both forced low tones and laughter-pocked croons – you could tell that he was a good leader. A trusted leader. A loved leader. And nothing he did on this mission was ever going to change that in the eyes of anyone here.

No, you hadn’t gotten to know him well. But damn if it didn’t still hurt to see him go. To peer over Ben’s shoulder – bent and broken and wracked with sobs – and into Tom’s empty, lifeless eyes all those days ago. So damn many days ago. To watch the brothers fight over the top of his body, sidestepping his corpse to throttle each other and throw blame to lessen the grief. To sit with Benny for the hour or so after – after helping him wrap up his friend with care – as his uncharacteristic silence slinked about you both in a smothering cloud of despair.

Ben, who had been the most jovial and talkative and… bright of all. He had quite literally welcomed you into the fold with open arms, a bit drunk and a bit concussed from a fight he insisted he won just hours before meeting you. He refused your handshake when Garcia introduced you, leaning in to envelope you in a tight hug instead, and then demanding to buy you a drink, despite the fact that you’d been nursing one while waiting for them to arrive. “Pretty lady like you shouldn’t ever have to shell out her own money for a drink,” he’d said with a grin and a wink.

You might’ve rolled your eyes, might’ve told him, pass amid a chiding glare. But before you could say a word, his brother smacked him upside the head, giving a disappointed eyeroll that would’ve outdone yours tenfold, and held out a hand to shake, a deep-tenor, “Don’t mind him, and nice to meet you,” putting you immediately at ease and making it utterly clear who the Miller brothers were. Will was the politic adult, professional and well-mannered. And Benny was simply a ball full of harmless fun.

Until now, that is. Now – you can see even as his slumped body fades away into the tree line below – Ben has become little more than sorrow and sinew.

A crunching tumble of pebbles sounds suddenly in your periphery, tearing you from your spiraling thoughts. You look up to see Santiago looming to your right, effectively blocking the sliver of sunlight that remains peeking through the dusk-hued sky. “You okay, bonita?” he asks, the tone of his voice and wrinkle to his brow as he looks down at you serving to snap you back to the here and now. Here. Now. Shivering in the cold as the four of you settle in on the side of some damn mountain, having just bid farewell to yet another member of your party.

Your gaze falls from his face almost as quickly as it had jerked up to meet it just a breath of a moment ago. You shake your head and let out a sigh. “I should’ve gone with him,” you utter simply. “I thought you’d been joking about how bad his Spanish was, but…”

He snorts out a laugh, and the corner of your mouth raises in a slight, crooked smile. “Yeah, well,” he starts, dropping down to take a seat on the hard earth beside you. “With how well you’ve been hiking through these hills, he’d probably have ended up carrying you like a backpack.” He gives you a shit-eating grin, teasing brow raised high. “We’re hoping to get out of here sometime this decade. Don’t need your ass slowing us down any more.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, the taunting cadence just barely cutting through the deep rumble of his laugh.

His hand falls to your knee, palm sliding side to side in a comforting stroke before he tightens his fingers over your patella and gives you a bit of a shake. “I’m only kidding,” he states, as though you didn’t already know. “You’ve been doing great. Really.”

You issue out a quick snort, a thick, incredulous breath kicking a puff of steam up into the frigid air.

“I mean it,” he tells you, turning a serious glance your way. “I know this isn’t what you signed up for.”

“It’s not what any of us signed up for,” you interrupt pointedly.

“Yeah. But… DEA doesn’t exactly train people the same as us,” he intones, giving a nod towards the other men. “I know you’ve never been… exposed to this kind of shit.”

You wrinkle your nose and squint as you turn to look up at the mountain you’d just somehow managed to traverse. “Yeah. This has been some shit.”

He lets out another small laugh – short and fleeting – before pulling his hand from your knee and settling into the silence surrounding you. Ahead, Frankie and Will build up a rock barrier around Tom’s body, a protective cocoon for the night lest any animals come by. You’d all noticed – especially today as the sun came out in the afternoon and beat heavily down on your backs – that he’d begun to rot. To smell. And as much as everyone wanted to still hold him close, no one really wanted his steadily decaying body stinking at their sides as they attempted to sleep tonight.

Once they’re done with their makeshift mausoleum, the two men move across the way and begin digging through their packs for food. “Frankie mentioned that you hadn’t been eating,” Santi mutters from your right as both of your eyes remain trained on the men working before you.

You shrug. “I’ve eaten as much as anyone else.”

A tiny chuckle ripples through him, drawing a confused glare from you. And his smile only widens when he sees the uncertainty painted across your face. “He likes you, bonita,” he singsongs, giving your shoulder a little shove. Then, grin swiftly fading away to nothing, he rather distractedly declares, “He’s worried about you.”

Your brow furrows a bit, stare honing in on the broad-shouldered man now falling into shadow. The man you’d only just begun to know and yet somehow felt eerily connected to. Another sigh escapes your lips, shoulders slumping as you avert your eyes, looking instead to the dark tree line far below. “I’m worried about all of us.”

“Yeah,” he breathes out with a solemn nod. “Yeah. Me too.”

It hits you then… as you feel Santi slouch heavily beside you, a heady silence permeating the miniscule space between you. And as you turn back in time to see Will grimace and clutch his side, giving into the pain of a days-old gunshot wound for just a breath of a moment, all that he’ll allow himself to take. And as you watch Frankie remove his hat and wipe the sweat from his brow – despite the temperature already plummeting around you thanks to the nearly set sun – all while he stares solemnly over at the rotting, rock-covered corpse of one of his oldest friends.

You know why this feels different from any other tragedy you’d suffered in the past, any other bad op or mission gone wrong you’d ever endured. It feels different because this… this is all your fault.

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago pope garcia #triple frontier #francisco catfish morales #frankie morales x you #will miller #benny miller

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wisteriashouse · 4 years

Text

training.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2213

“Remember our deal?”

Kyoujurou calls from the other side of the dojo with a bright grin as he points his bokken straight at you, stance firm and eyes unwavering. In response to his enthusiasm, you only let out an exhausted sigh as you grab your own wooden sword from beside you, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the sleeve of your kimono. In contrast, Kyoujurou still looks totally unruffled after two hours of sparring, not a strand of bright yellow hair out of place even as he smiles radiantly at you.

The man before you is so annoying.

“I would like to remind you that I never agreed to this.” You counter loudly, but grip your practice sword tightly with both hands, shifting into a defensive stance. Not a second too soon, as the moment you do get into position, the Flame Hashira is already flying straight at you, so quick you see nothing more than a vibrant blur of orange across your vision.

Somehow, you manage to bring up your sword to parry the attack, the sheer force from his blow leaving your sore arms shaking. Ducking to the side, you swing at his legs, but he easily leaps over your sword, laughing the entire time.

“I decided it for both of us!” Kyoujurou’s laughter echoes through the dojo, and as much as you want to refute the fact, the sound of his happiness is one of the sweetest to your ears. “Whoever loses this match pays for dinner afterwards!”

“You eat far more than me, this isn’t fair!” You protest as the tip of Kyoujurou’s wooden sword nearly takes out one of your eyes, and would have if it weren’t for a quick dodge on your part. “And besides, it’s clear you’re going to win this match! You shouldn’t be using your friends as a means to free food, Kyo!”

The Flame Pillar lets loose a booming laugh at your accusation, twirling backwards out of the reach of your sword as you lunge forward. “You know I treasure you far too dearly to ever do that to you, my friend! Simply treat this as motivation to overcome your opponent, me!”

At his words, you blink once and shake your head hard to get rid of the blood in your cheeks. A friend, you remind yourself sharply. As kind, as courageous, as honorable of a man Kyoujurou is, he is also a Pillar of the Demon Slayer Corps. His mind is set on one thing only, slaying demons to save other humans, and he doesn’t have the time to even think about relationships.

“Perhaps when all this fighting is over.” He had told you once over tea on his engawa, smiling thoughtfully as he whisked the matcha in your cup. “For now, I do not have time to find a lover, nor the energy to give them my all. But a loving family,” he’d stolen a glance behind him at the Rengoku Estate, where you knew his father Shinjuro was perhaps lurking. It was only for a short moment, but you had understood the emotions in his heart. “That is something I dearly wish to have, someday.”

His dedication to saving others was, and still is, an honorable goal. You’re already grateful enough that he takes time out of his meagre rest periods between missions to spend time with you. You would rather not burden him with your feelings.

You’re so lost in your thoughts for a moment that you don’t realise that Kyoujurou has already darted within striking distance, his bokken colliding with yours with a resounding clack. Unprepared for the force, you stumble backwards over your own feet and fall flat onto your back, wheezing when all the breath is knocked from your lungs. The tip of a wooden sword comes to a halt squarely between your eyes.

You look up along the line of the blade to see Kyoujurou grinning at you, looking thoroughly pleased at his victory.

“Seven to two!” He announces proudly, sword still pointed straight at you. You’re going a little cross eyed looking at it. “Why did you falter?”

At his words, your heart skips a beat and you shake your head, trying to rid your head of all thoughts. Stupid Kyoujurou and his stupid charming smile. “It’s nothing, I’m just tired out. You’re the one who’s too energetic.” You try to play it off, reaching for your sword. “That’s enough training for today, I think. I’ll pay for your roasted sweet potatoes later at dinner-”

“That’s not what I asked!” Kyoujurou moves the tip of his sword down to your sternum, preventing you from getting off the training mats. You stare up at him in surprise. “My question was, why did you falter! Concentration and focus is of utmost importance in a battle, and I would hate to think that you would get hurt because of a lapse in attention! So tell me, why?”

“Kyoujurou, really, it’s nothing.” You insist, grabbing your sword. Your friend peers at you from above with slightly narrowed eyes, but eventually relents, taking a step back and holding out a hand. You take it gratefully and he hauls you to your feet with a little too much strength, your nose colliding with the firm muscles of his chest.

At the contact, you let out a small ‘eep’ and Kyoujurou grabs you by the shoulders to steady you. Even through your clothes, wherever he touches, fire burns at your skin in the most pleasant way possible. You can’t help the feeling.

“You are sure you’re alright?” You glance up to see Kyoujurou’s face mere inches from yours, golden eyes fixed on you in concern and so close that you can feel his warm breath on your cheek. You flush this time, unable to stop it, and quickly extricate yourself from his grasp before you spontaneously combust into flames.

“I’m fine!” You manage to get out, perhaps a little too high pitched to be believable. Kyoujurou stares at you for a moment more and you desperately hope that your face isn’t as red as you think it is.

Luckily for you, Kyoujurou seems to buy it, stepping back and thankfully allowing you to catch your breath. “One last match!” He tells you insistently. “We were supposed to go for the best out of ten for this bet!” You let out a pitiful groan at the thought of taking another beating, but at least he seems like he’s forgotten about what happened earlier.

“There’s no way I’m winning this.” You mumble under your breath as you ready your sword again, more than prepared to just get bonked over the head again with Kyoujurou’s bokken. The Flame Pillar hums thoughtfully, before his face brightens all of a sudden.

“If you win this one match, dinner will be on me tonight! As long as you get me onto my back, it’s your victory!” He suggests. You squint at him with narrowed eyes, but his offer has perked you up just a little more, even though your odds of winning are still close to none.

“Alright.” You agree, raising your sword once more. Taking in a deep breath to calm yourself, you ready your stance and shout at him. “Come at me!”

“That’s the attitude I like to see in you!” Kyoujurou laughs, before he’s before you in an instant, bokken weaving about in a series of complicated strikes. Forcing yourself to focus, you parry every single one of them before going on the offensive, driving your blade straight towards his neck and putting all the power into your legs.

“Faster!” The Pillar cheers you on excitedly even as he sidesteps you, bringing his blade up to knock yours to the side. “You’re improving, surely! That’s a great thing!”

You can’t even find the time to retort with a smart ass comment, too busy blocking his barrage of strikes and trying to keep your sword from flying clean out of your hands with each blow. He isn’t even breaking a sweat! Completely exhausted, you decide to end this match with a last ditch effort on your part, flipping your sword in your hand and throwing it blade first at Kyoujurou with all the strength you can muster. His eyes go wide with surprise for a second at your unexpected gambit and he raises his sword to block it, but that leaves him unguarded for the briefest moment. With a shout, you launch yourself straight at him, wrapping both arms around his waist and knocking him down to the floor.

The two of you crash heavily onto the mats, your sword clattering to the ground next to you. For a moment, the dojo is silent except for the sound of your heavy pants as you attempt to catch your breath, sweat dripping down your forehead and neck.

“That was a very surprising move! You have gotten me onto my back.”

You look down to see Kyoujurou pinned beneath you, your legs straddling either side of his waist. He’s strong enough to pull you off him easily, but he’s smiling up at you, and you’re not sure which would be more lethal to your heart.

“However, that wasn’t a very smart thing to when you’re fighting a demon.” His voice is firm, but a little quieter this time. You instantly wince when you think it through, throwing the only weapon you can decapitate a demon with is surely not a plausible battle strategy.

“Sorry, I got desperate-” You begin to say, but suddenly an iron grip wraps around both your wrists and your field of vision flips. Yelping in shock, you glance upwards and Kyoujurou is the one looming over you this time, both your hands and your lower body pinned down by his.

And he isn’t smiling.

“Kyo?” You squeak out hesitantly. There’s a different sort of fire burning in his eyes, unrelenting even as you try to tug your wrists free of his grasp. “Kyoujurou? What are you doing?”

“Throwing away your sword could put you in danger. The nichirin blade is the only thing we humans can use to fight against demons.” Kyoujurou’s voice is perfectly calm, but you’ve never heard him talk like this before. For some reason, it makes you squirm a little under his gaze; its almost predatory. “If I were a demon, what would you do?”

“I-” You flounder for a moment, trying to think of a strategy, but before a thought can so much as cross your mind, Kyoujurou shakes his head. “Too slow.”

He leans down, dangerously close, until all you can see is a head of yellow and red hair, feel the stray strands that have fallen out of the ponytail he put it in earlier tickling your collarbone. Your heart is pounding so hard you wonder if Kyoujurou can hear it, like a war drum beating in your chest.

“If I were a demon...” his breath is warm against the skin of your neck, and you let out a startled cry when you feel his teeth latch at the sensitive spot there. A shudder runs down the full length of your body, and you freeze, mortified. “If I were a demon, I would eat you up in an instant. You’re completely defenseless against me right now.”

His face is buried in your neck, so you can’t see the expression on his face. Mildly panicking, you open your mouth, and the first words to leave it are a breathless whisper.

“If you were the demon, I don’t think I would mind.”

Kyoujurou doesn’t reply for a moment, and what you’ve just said hits you like a punch straight to the gut. Before you can get the pieces of your frazzled mind together to explain yourself, Kyoujurou suddenly releases you and sits up to grin brightly at you.

You don’t know whether you’re relieved or disappointed.

“Now that won’t do!” Kyoujurou scolds you affectionately, ruffling your hair with one hand. You let out a noise of protest and bat his hands away, patting down your hair frantically. The two of you rise to your feet, your battered body protesting with every movement. “Even if I’m the demon, you mustn’t hesitate at all to cut off my head! Understood?”

You let out a sigh at his words and nod your head, already feeling the beginning of an ache settling into your muscles. You’ll have to soak in the hot springs after dinner to loosen them up, you think to yourself. Kyoujurou laughs at the expression on your face.

“Since you did get me on my back, however, I shall take it as your win!” He says cheerfully, and you immediately look up at him with excited eyes. “I’ll wait here while you get your kit, then I’ll treat you to dinner tonight as a reward.”

“Yes!” You cheer, looking positively delighted. “Thanks, Kyo!”

You wrap your arms around him for a quick hug, before running out of the dojo with a skip in your step. Kyoujurou watches you until you’re out of sight, before he lets out a long, drawn out sigh and squats on the ground, his face buried in his hands.

“So cute.” He murmurs to himself softly, and no one but the wind hears him.

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kyojuro #kyoujurou

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pyroclaststan · 3 years

Text

CW: This is the softest shit I’ve ever written

You’d asked Kingsley to come over and do your hair as a joke [mostly]. You knew they were hesitant to be in your space on the best of days, and almost always avoidant of any kind of touch or personal interactions on any given day. It was made very clear very early on in your friendship how high Chrysanta’s walls are but it’s always made you try harder, tease more, push often—never too much.

Not out of disrespect for their boundaries, but because it was also made very clear early on in your friendship that they had no friends, and if there was one thing you could say Kingsley needed in this world it’s friends. Maybe also someone to pry the stick up their ass loose, too, but even your hero self can’t work miracles.

And here they are: ringing your doorbell, hood up over that ratty cap you’re dying to throw away, feet shuffling, and a bag over their shoulder. Maybe the look on your face as you opened the door shouldn’t have been such a cross between excited and shocked, because they flinch immediately upon seeing you stand in the doorway, arms held wide.

“Do you want me to w-wait until you get dressed to come back?” they ask, looking pointedly away towards the bottom of the stairs for someone tailing them.

A mental note to figure out what’s up with the ‘who’ of that situation one day, but for now you take a look down at yourself. Gym shorts and a tank top: who knew they were such a prude? You that’s who, but only when they are outside of their uniform and around you it seems. That’s why you chose to ditch the sweatshirt you’d had on before answering the door… and it’s also the height of summer in this godforsaken city.

“What do you mean?” you cross your arms and tilt your head, playing innocent, making sure your braid falls over your shoulder. “I’m in my own home, firstly, and secondly: I am clothed. Not all of us need to be covered head-to-toe with eighty layers in this heat.”

They shuffle again, and you know the hand that isn’t holding the strap of their duffle bag is in their jacket’s pocket doing their tell: the clenching and unclenching of long, strong hands; vascular and calloused, often bloodied or bruised at the knuckles but still beautiful in their rough way. You squeeze your eyes to cut that random thought right there, disguising it as a reaction to the intense orange-toned daylight bleeding into your cool apartment.

“Chrysantamum, get the hell inside: looking at you is making me overheat,” you chide playfully, pulling them in by the strap of their bag and catching them off-guard, so much so they half-stumble through your front door, ducking lower than even they need to.

Jodidamente gigante…

Pink cheeks are quickly hidden as they reach up to pull their hat down lower, head bent in attempted irritation. Closing the door and setting the lock as they walk past, you watch as their back hunches so much that it makes you worry about their spinal health, and not for the first time.

“Jules, you can, uh, you can just say ‘come in’ like a normal person,” they huff, removing their bag from their shoulder but keeping it in hand.

“I could, but when have you ever accepted an invitation of mine?” The gaze you direct at them is cutting: visual representation of all the times you’ve extended your courtesy and company only for them to shut you down, cold and completely.

And speaking of cold, is that a bead of sweat on King’s face? You figured they were immune to the heat: they’ve never been about anything but dark colours and multiple layers.

Maldito lagarto gigante. You know, you didn’t curse nearly as much before you two became friends. Not as creatively either.

“That’s… fair,” their shoulders sag, defeated by their own admission and unaware of their agreement to your internal insult. You win two in one. “I should’ve expected you to get h-handsy anyway. You’re tactile.”

“I’m tactile? How many times are you gonna squeeze that hand of yours?”

They freeze at your smug face, hand immediately retreating from their pocket and down to their side like they’ve been caught red-handed. Anathema used to keep a tally of how often they did that but the whiteboard turned black.

A small sigh escapes your lips as you step past them to head towards the couch: neutral territory that keeps you from crowding King until they relax. You know the drill by now. “Oh! And you know the rules: no hats on indoors.”

“W-what?” it’s almost a whine. “I always wear a hat when I’m with you guys.”

“That’s at HQ—this is a home, Sidestep, it’s basic etiquette. Were you raised in a barn?”

“On a farm,” they murmur, giving in to your request. They’re a little bit of a shit from time to time, but they’ve always been respectful of basic manners in private—raised right by someone at some point, you suppose. You’ve always noticed how well they set a table, pull out a chair, take a coat. Classic manners instilled young, that much you can tell.

There’s a coat hook that you put up on the wall recently—for them—and after setting their bag by their feet, their top two jackets adorn it. A bomber and an all-weather? They had to be boiling walking out there. That ratty cap is pulled off and placed over them, too, so you watch as they take down their thick curly-coily hair, swiftly collecting strays back into the bun to no avail. Fidgeting begins once they’re done and realise there’s nothing to thread their hair through, unused to being uncovered.

“How do you not melt out there?” you ask in disbelief, fanning yourself dramatically. “Can you seriously not just put on a single t-shirt, like a regular person?”

“I like the weight.” It’s a short tone that tells you that string of questioning is closed, and instead their focus goes to taking off their shoes and setting them down neatly below their jackets, heels against the wall as a sign they’re staying.

Deliberate motions, unsure emotions.

“Sure, okay.” Leaning far to your left you pat the seat of the couch three times, signalling them to sit their ass down which they do slowly, taking their bag back into their hands.

It settles into their lap as you sit back and watch them: eyes running all over—casing for exits—and hands fidgeting nervously. Inviting them over always feels like entering a kennel pen with the way you have to sit back and wait for them to settle into your space with you, but you’re used to it. It’s kind of endearing, really… in some kind of vigilant way you can’t quite explain. Or at least, it’s become endearing. Traitorous eyes once again find themselves settled on Kingsley’s hands.

“What do you want?”

You startle, face flushing at the thought that they caught you staring and got annoyed, but when you look up they’re still staring straight ahead. This is an opportunity to take in their profile, always having been drawn to their sharp jaw and the pronounced line of their cheekbone since they’ve been unmasked—tracking the cloud of freckles on their skin and some faint scars here and there. Counting the numerous ball hoop earrings that cover the entire edge of their ear, you’re reminded of your old therapy tricks, the calm helping as you quickly gather your composure. Keeps you cool and sane while they become a ball of unrest.

Five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste—or whatever combination works best for your surroundings. It’s been a long time since you’ve needed that trick.

Realisation hits that they’re still expecting a response.

“What are my options?” you tease in a soft flirty tone you can’t fight; teasing them is just so second nature nowadays.

King sits a little straighter as they pick up your double meaning, then cover their face by leaning forward into their propped-up palm as if bored—fooling no one in the room. You know they’re anything but bored by how their fingers tap, and soon the leg starts bouncing just as you knew it would.

“That’s up to you th-this time. Just don’t pick anything that’ll have your PR team suing me or breathing down my neck. Remember when, uh, when you dyed it blue?”

“It was temporary!”

“And they still freaked.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you concede with a pout. Not as much freedom as you’d like has came of your stint in the Rangers so far. Sure, you can walk, you can fight, you can muck around to your heart’s content, but you’re still on a leash. One that you’ll be expected to pay off. “I don’t know—I didn’t really plan on you actually showing up.”

A quick frown in your direction. “Gracias por el voto de confianza, polla.”

Okay, geez, so you both rubbed off on each other.

“No offence!” you put your hands up as a gesture of peace. “You just don’t like coming around.”

“I’m not used to coming around,” Kingsley corrects, looking at you, “I like coming around...”

As they trail off your heart leaps at that; your stomach flips, you’re about to respond when—

“…you’ve got A/C” they finish, turning their head, smiling that dammed crooked smile at their own joke.

There’s a quiet huff from you that mimics theirs as your ego deflates a little. That was a jab in true Sidestep fashion, sure, but you can’t help but feel a little… disappointed.

Sidestep—Kingsley, King, Chrysantamum—is looking at you expectantly now. “Well?”

“Dealer’s choice,” you get up, looking anywhere else as you pace. Can’t stand sitting this still this long much less with their gaze on you.

The sound of them lifting off the couch quickly stops you in your tracks.

“What? Y-you’re just gonna let someone do whatever they want to your hair?”

“Not ‘someone,’ you—I’m letting you do whatever you want to it. It’s just hair.”

“It’s not just hair!” they exclaim walking fiercely up the edge of your personal space, surprising both of you. They take a long step back, a pause of quiet as they collect themself and stand straight, making them taller. “Hair is… it’s personal. It’s…” a look of discomfort as they trial off, “intimate.”

You didn’t expect this: for them to get some up-in-arms about hair of all things. Looking at theirs, for the first time you start to think about all the work that goes into those long curls. The care, the maintenance, the time. Cultural and personal significance as well, you assume.

You smile with a softness that melts through you, “That’s why I asked you to do it.”

The look that passes over their face is the closest thing to affection you’ve ever seen. There is sorrow in their brow, but the tiny smile on their lips and the way they hold eye contact with you says… everything. Then it’s gone as quick as it came, eyes averted, hands pulling at the sleeves of their hoodie, their feet shuffling. Those tiny little things that they consist of, live by, exist with. It is always about the little things with them: it occurs to you that this may be a big thing. Maybe they need more time to—

“Alright,” a cracking voice cuts you off before you can ask the question that was still building, “grab a dining room chair, a tall one, and meet me in the kitchen.”

Kingsley’s already moving, mechanically yet fluid in the way they walk over, picking their bag, and navigate around and past you as you’re walking in their path. Nervous muscle and hyper focus—so like them it makes you smile. You diverge by the dining room, heading over to pick up a chair as directed, confused as to why you’re taking it to the kitchen.

“Shouldn’t we be in the living room or bathroom?”

“Living room has nothing we need, bathroom’s too small—I uh, take up most of the space as is.”

You avoid imagining the two of you crammed into that private space.

Looking at them again as you approach, you watch the way they deftly unpack: eyes locked on the contents, right hand grabbing items and tossing them to the left without a single shift in their line of sight. Thinking. These little pieces of themself that Kingsley leaves around your apartment always make it hard to resist inviting them.

It’s too much, too fast for them, sure. But there is something about Chrysanta’s presence in your home compared to anywhere else. It is quiet—it always is despite their size—but it is rooted, in a way they never are to any thing or place or moment. Their steps are slower, their movements more eased, the calm they feel reflected in how little they stutter or panic because they can’t feel you in their confusing telepathic way.

“Where should I set the chair?” you ask softly.

“At the sink.” Not bothering to look at you to respond.

As soon as you set it down, facing the sink, Kingsley’s hand reaches out and turns it around.

“One more, please,” absently said as they set up all of whatever it is they’ve brought, set to boiling water, and wash their hands at the sink.

You muse on how they’ve always reminded you of a surgeon, the way they wash up or are exacting in their ministrations. Absentmindedly, you ponder if they’d have made a good med student, leading you to wonder if they’d ever had plans of what they wanted to grow up to be when they were young—outside of a vigilante. You nearly bump into them with the chair during your daydream before their hand quickly snakes out to catch you by the shoulder.

“This one is for me later, we can leave it over here.”

As swift as they stopped you, the chair is out of your hands, and you realise you’ve never seen Kingsley so… in charge. The way they move through this small space like it’s their own world in yours.

In charge of Charge, you chuckle to yourself at such a dumb joke. Sounds like a tag line to one of those adult movies they make about the two of you. They spare a glance your way.

“Alright, I’m just gonna g-grab some towels. Go ahead and sit.”

“Yes, sir, Marshal, sir,” you call out cheekily as they walk out, following orders with a small laugh.

There is a small well of feelings that has been bubbling in your stomach and you’re not quite sure what to call them. ‘Sir’ sent a small ping of questioning to the back of your mind. The two of you never quite discussed what kind of words Kingsley likes being directed at them. Masculine or feminine, in the way words are gendered. They’ve told you they’re not a woman, but they’ve also expressed that they’re not a man either, or maybe they’re both—it’s new to you, in the sense that you’re not sure where you stand without pre-conceived societal notions as a guideline between the two of you.

Would they like to be called handsome? Or beautiful? Is there something else that fits? Would attractive be a safe word to use? Does anyone compliment them? Should you do it more?

You shake your head, focusing on undoing your braid instead, settling your face back to a small smile as soon as they walk back in. They move the saucepan of hot water off the burner, setting a jar of oil in the centre, then busy themself with a small box they pulled from their bag.

“Shall we?” they ask, looking at you as they put on a pair of tight black nitrile gloves.

“Is this an examination?” you joke nervously, pointing at their hands.

There’s a cringe when you think of your last mod check-up, invasive and impersonal. Your brain can’t help but carry on, thinking of hospitals and your various stays in them. You don’t like them as is, but Kingsley’s proximity to you has made you even more wary of them; the panic they show when you bring up medical attention sometimes is sobering.

“No? I mean… uh, I’m not calling you dirty, but I don’t know how clean your hair is, and you d-don’t know how clean my hands are.”

The look on your face must have been either offence or murder because they take a step back, hands up.

“It’s a health precaution! I’m just being careful,” they croak.

“I wash my hair!” Your tone is indignant.

“I know! I’m just being safe!”

“I feel like I’m going in for a pap sm—“

“Alright alright!” they yell to cut you off, face red up to the ears at your unfinished sentence. “I’ll take them off as soon as I’m done washing your hair.”

“Thank you,” you give their hands one last nervous glance, only eased by the thought of how attractive the gloves makes them look. You sincerely hope the sudden mortification at that is not showing on your face, but they’re already turning their back to you.

“Wait, Kings,” you interrupt, “take off your hoodie.”

“W-what?” You do not miss the look of absolute panic on their face.

“It’s gonna get soaked handling all my hair,” you clarify.

“And my sh-shirt is gonna get wet if it isn’t on.”

“But your shirt will dry faster.”

“You have a dryer—my sweater can be dried.”

“Well… about that...” your exasperated laugh and a wiggle of fingers from your raised hand tells them all they need to know.

“Julia. How the hell did you break your dryer again? I just fixed it!”

“It wasn’t on purpose this time—there was a static build up!” Your hands slap you in the mouth as soon as the sentence finishes. Your eyes widen as Kingsley’s narrow.

“This time?” their voice is low, their eyes sharp.

“I uh, may have broken it to get you over here for dinner that time…” The half-hearted chuckle you let out is fake even to you.

“Julia.” A stern glare.

“…Kingsley?” Utter avoidance of eye-contact.

“That’s incredibly dangerous, first off. And I’m not a maintenance worker. You don’t pay me for that.”

“I can absorb any electricity that comes my way and I pay you in food,” a quick retort, regaining composure. “And I got you to stop avoiding the simple notion of a meal together as if I were threatening you with a gun.”

There is a specific face they make at that, and for the umpteenth time in your life you wish you knew what it was they were thinking.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever—just sit down and shut up.”

From anyone else that would sound rude, but that’s simply Sidestep’s tone. The impact is also lessened by the movement of them removing their hoodie, leaving behind a loose long-sleeve that briefly reveals a long-sleeved compression shirt tucked in beneath. The upper layer had lifted while they were pulling the hoodie over their leaving the outline of Kingsley’s back muscles and bra lines on show before they fixed it.

Just a friendly look at your friend’s back. Friendly-ly.

Mouth not at all dry.

“So what’s on the menu? What are we doing?” you cough as they position themself in front of you, looming even more than usual now that you’re sitting.

They reach behind your head and your heart skips; they gather all of your hair carefully and lift it with the gentlest touch, moving a hand to guide you to sit all the back by the shoulder.

“Luckily your sink is low enough that I can lean you back for this to work,” they hum, setting your hair into the sink and tilting your head back, “I’m uh, only used to doing my hair texture… I’ve never done someone else’s hair.” They swallow hard, suddenly nervous. “First: shampoo, maybe a deep cleanse. An oil or deep treatment mask, heat treatment to that for thirty minutes. Rinse it out, then moisturise, comb, and braid.”

“You’re gonna give me braids?” you smile up at them, the orange light of outside slipping through your blinds against their skin and yours. They look bronzed in the lighting. “Like yours?”

“Not quite,” they laugh. “Something more l-like French braids or not-quite-cornrows. I don’t think your hair could support the protective styles I do. I don’t… think so at least? My curls are much tighter than yours.”

“You don’t know?” Teasing.

“I’m not a, not a fucking aesthetician or cosmetologist or beautician, Ghoulia. I’m a vigilante—I don’t get paid the big bucks to make people pretty, I’m usually the one fucking ‘em up. For free!” They sigh heavily, pulling at their gloves to make a loud slap noise as they let go to shut you up.

You giggle quietly, only for it to grow louder and your shoulders to start to shake as Kingsley pulls you forward to set a towel around your shoulders, then let’s you fall back into place before they lean over to turn on the water and pull out the sink hose, adjusting your hair once more.

“What are you laughing about?” they ask, looking down at you, smiling softly and holding you by the back of the head with one hand.

“Did you just… did you just call me fucking Ghoulia?” you burst out laughing uncontrollably.

“You literally call me Chrysantamum—that’s not a worse pun?” they ask, spraying the top of your head with water playfully before setting to work rinsing the rest thoroughly.

“I mean… yeah! That’s so much worse!”

The laughter carries on for two more minutes, much to Kingsley’s displeasure—and your abs’.

“Sidestep Spa… you could make good money with this.”

“No,” they cut you off. “Hair is… like I said, I’ve never done someone else’s. Hair is personal. It’s trust.”

You stare silently at them, considering their words. Is this you showing trust? Or them? For you, this had been a joke but… not anymore. You understand now, as their fingers carefully and dextrously work through your hair: you feel the mutual connection, respect and trust. It feels like a ritual; some kind of magic never really touched on by most.

A thoughtful look at Kingsley. You think of the things they share with you, and that seem to mean something to them. Food, space, and hair. Those must be their love languages: how swiftly they make sure you’ve eaten and how careful they are right now. How often they sit with you on rooftops for a sunset and a beer. The light pulls and parts; the way their fingers massaging into your scalp threatens to make you melt into your chair, and the rinsing calms you.

You think, suddenly, to your mother. The days of your youth spent sitting between her knees as she pulled your curls and waves into a neat braid before you ran off to cause a ruckus. Of her styling your hair the ways her mother styled hers. Hair that connected to your culture, your roots, your family. It dawns on you that this is what that must be for King, too—especially having grown up viewed as a woman.

Time flies by while you’re lost to the memories and motions.

Even now, as you sit in the chair with a warm towel wrapped around your head and with the hot oil they prepared working it’s magic, they don’t sit still. Instead their hands are busy with small bowls, a brush, and a fork, mixing things together into a larger bowl.

“Making your hair mask,” they comment absently, feeling your gaze on them. “Fresh ingredients are better. It’ll help repair what your stylist’s constant flat-ironing damaged.”

Pelo malo, you remember unkind neighbours saying to you. You remember your mother yelling at them in turn, before pulling you close on your walk home, petting your hair.

You think of your mother’s hands as they mix with a fork. It takes you back to a different kitchen, to the sounds and smells of pancakes sizzling on the cast iron griddle. The ingredients they mix reminding you more of a meal than a hair product: honey, avocado, yogurt, brown sugar, banana, apple cider vinegar. You don’t even bother to ask how they came across some of those ingredients here in the west, you know they have more tricks than they let on.

Chrysanta’s movement back into place directly in front of you drags you back into the present fully, tracing details of their face in the rarest moment of absolute openness. No shields, no walls, no topics. Just their hands as they carefully unwrap the towel, taking great care not to pull your hair or have anything drip onto you instead of the towel.

As they rinse your hair, once again focused on threading fingers gracefully and massaging your scalp and hair, your eyes close.

You wonder what Kingsley’s life is like, outside of you and the Rangers. What their childhood was like. What their youth was like. What their teen years were like. You’re not even sure how old they are now. You wonder about questions you know you can’t have answers to, because you know they won’t tell you. Questions you think might hurt them if you asked.

More so, you wonder what their family was like. Your eyes open and you wonder if Chrysantamum ever sat in a chair like this, with their mother lovingly washing her daughter’s hair at the kitchen sink like a right of passage. If kind hands cared enough to catch every curl, with kind eyes at her child like they were the sun—the light of her life. If she’d smooth down King’s baby hairs with the same long, swift fingers and small smiles, or brush them down just-so. You think she would have been beautiful: both young Kingsley and her mother. You look at them again, while they’re focused, and wonder if their grandmother is in their features like your’s is in yours.

You think about how Kingsley can’t cook: was she not there to teach them? Was their mother not there either? With their hunger now, you bet they needed to eat so much as a child, and it hurts to ponder if they ever went hungry from the way you see them ration their leftovers.

You close your eyes as they part sections of your hair, cool bare skin on your scalp now, and the occasional rat tail of a comb catching stray hairs. Part, a dab of oil, a clip to hold the section: you can practically hear the steps light up in their head. As careful and precise with hair as they are with machines.

You think maybe they like machines because they don’t muddy the waters with feelings. Feelings—accepting or giving—do not come easy to them. And you have learned by now that what they feel is best determined by their actions, not the words they use as sword and shield against others. You wonder how they feel. Looking up at them does not make it any clearer, but…

They rub the mask between their palms to warm it, and you know somewhere in you this is love. This is as close to love as they know, and that is enough for you.

There may be lingering confusion in your feelings: you have always been attracted to men, and they are not a man—but they are also not a woman. There may be some hesitation to take a step from friendship with someone who means so much to you. But whatever you both have to give, when you’re both ready, will be enough for you.

You can imagine that little girl: too tall and lanky and active for their own good. Bruised knees and scratched arms and torn dresses every time they came back into the house in the evening, like you when you were young. Maybe the two of you would have been good friends back then, too. Maybe the world wouldn’t have gotten to Kingsley so much if you’d been there with them. It’s nothing you can change now: you know better than anyone that the past stays behind where it can only hurt you if you try to go back to it.

They look down at you now, the mask application finished, and survey the soft look in your eyes, the light smile on your face with a mirrored one of their own. You too, see the small traces of confusion flash by, but it melts away. The eye contact held as their bare hand comes up, brushing against your forehead softly as if to move stray strands away you know they’ve collected, then down the side of your cheek as if to catch some oil left behind they never dropped. Excuses for intimacy that does not come naturally to them. And right now that is enough.

“Do you think I should cut my hair?” you ask softly, hoping they see in your eyes how much their opinion truly matters to you. More than anyone’s ever has.

The question brings a sharpness to their brow, eyes still soft and searching.

“Do you want to? If you want to, do it—I’ll help. However I can.” Their face hardens. “Don’t ever let those stylists tell you what you can and can’t do for yourself. Don’t ever let them make you their doll.”

The last sentence is spat like venom; there’s a deep bitterness in those words, in that choice of words, but you know that’s a question you cannot ask.

You reach up and gently pull a curl that freed itself from Kingsley’s bun. You watch it stretch, far longer than it looks, and let it rest again, pushing it from their brow. You wonder what Kingsley looked liked with hair as long as yours, or what they’d look like with it even shorter. You wonder what colour they’ll braid in next, what length of braids, and if anyone ever gets to help them.

Their soft gaze breaks, reaching for the hose one last time to rinse the mask from your head. There is a new kind of quiet blossoming between the two of you as they rinse: a maybe, an almost, a sort of. An electricity even your mods can’t match, a feeling in the pit of your stomach even hunger couldn’t touch.

And when they begin to carefully dry your hair you ponder what it will mean in the future—what it means now. There is a soft tap on your forehead, twice, and you know that means to lift the mask but you’re not the one who wears it, so you turn your gaze upwards instead. Chrysantamum is leaned down, far enough to be close to your face, and their face is soft and their ears are red. That bright green gaze looks to your lips and back to your eyes, the tilt of the head a question, one you know well: may I kiss you? Your question. Just as you know the answer as you smile softly like they do, and lean in for them to catch your lips, always soft and questioning—never wanting to lock you in, never asking for more than you’re willing to give, never staying long. You part slowly, smiling softer than you have all night.

They suddenly knock the towel off your head and flee to the living room cackling, knowing you’ll give chase. Always one step ahead. You don’t disappoint, throwing the towel after them and bolting over to catch them in a kiss as they turn around. Charging in. For just a few minutes more you stay entangled, hands at the back of each other’s necks—another small intimacy with grand connotations.

When the two of you settle back into the living room— King on the couch and you between their knees—you wonder if this will one day become a memory you can fondly look back on. If you will remember the sepia tone streaming in through the window, the feeling of their fingers as they separate your hair—moisturising and combing, and of the soft pulls as they carefully weave braids along your scalp.

“Think PR would be pissed if I p-put a teal ribbon in your braid?” they ask with a surprising cheekiness.

“I’m a hero, not a cheerleader,” you complain with no actual objections. “Put a piece of jewellery or something instead.”

You hear their hands ruffling in their pocket, so you turn to look, curiosity piqued. They remove a few small charms, the kind you’ve seen in their own braids, twists, and locs. Pumping their brows at you cheesily, they put the hair tie in their hand between their teeth, moving to get a better grip on the braid they’re working on.

A few pulls you don’t quite feel later and you hear a little “Ta-da!” as your braid falls over your shoulder. You lift it up to get a better look and you see a charm woven in seamlessly: a small piece of turquoise more teal than blue.

You lean forward a little, drawing your knees to your chin with an arm around them, fiddling with it as the two of you fall into silence. The sensations of their hands on you, and the comfort of your home around them.

Right now, this is more than enough for you.

#I owed y’all something Sweet #the mischief scribbles #Fallen Hero: Rebirth #Pre-Rebirth #MC: Kingsley Chrysanta #Julia Ortega #Chargestep

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